DarkSpawn
by The Lost Kid
Summary: Voldermort has been destroyed, but in his absence a new dark order has been stirring. With the birth of the newest Malfoy heir, Draco and Hermione's son, this dark cult will awaken and seek the child out. For he is the one chosen to lead them to power.
1. Chapter 1

1**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy paced the length of his small study, glancing at the ceiling every few minutes and muttering incoherently to himself. Harry Potter, who was seated behind Draco's desk in a comfortable leather armchair, peered at the silver haired young man from behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. He had stopped reading some time ago, but had kept up the pretense to cover up his anxiety. Ron Weasley, who sat close to Harry, looked both bored and worried and kept crossing and uncrossing his long legs. The three men were all waiting for the same thing. A cry of pain from upstairs made all three look to the ceiling, and interrupted Draco's pacing momentarily. With a frustrated sigh he crossed his arms behind his back and resumed the restless stride.

Harry stared at the newspaper again without really seeing it, and Ron squirmed in his seat and crossed his legs for the hundredth time. The cause of all this unease: Hermione Granger. She was upstairs in the late stages of a long drawn-out labour. Earlier that day much to Draco's alarm (and Hermione's annoyance) her waters had broken. Their twins weren't due for another two weeks but clearly _they_ had other plans. There hadn't been enough time to get Hermione to Malfoy manor where Lucius Malfoy had insisted the birth should take place for tradition's shake. A mediwitch from St. Mungo's had been sent for and the stout middle-aged witch that turned up had, eerily enough, helped to deliver Draco. Ron and Harry had arrived soon after to provide moral support for Draco (only because Hermione had made them promise to do so). Presently Ron coughed to get Harry's attention and stared pointedly at the father-to-be who had stopped pacing and was staring at the door intently. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, clearly worry for his wife and unborn children was getting the better of him.

"That does it!" he cried suddenly, striding toward the door.

Ron and Harry beat him to it and blocked his way. "No Draco, you can't" said Harry holding him back. "It's against -"

"Out of my way, Potter!" snarled Draco. "Screw tradition, that's my wife up there."

"Easy mate, Hermione will be fine" said Ron. "She's tougher than she's looks, you should know that."

"But it's been hours" said Draco desperately, a hint of panic tainting his voice. "Shouldn't she have had them by now?"

"Urm...I can't say I've had much experience in this...area" said Harry. "Ron?"

"Just because I'm an uncle four times over, doesn't mean I know the exact details of the process" grumbled Ron.

"This is ridiculous!"growled Draco. "I have to see her, I refuse to -" he broke off as the glass shaded lamp hanging from the ceiling began to flicker on and off.

"Huh?" said Ron.

"Maybe it's a power surge?" suggested Harry lamely.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Draco "We don't have electricity, everything runs on magic!"

"Well maybe it's a magical power surge!" snapped Harry.

Before Draco could come up with a witty rebuttal against Potter's absurd statement Hermione upstairs gave a terrible scream of pain. Harry and Ron, who had loosened their grip on Draco, suddenly found themselves yanking him back as he barrelled toward the door.

"Let go of me!" yelled Draco.

"Malfoy!" grunted Ron "You and Hermione both agreed, you took the vows. If you -"

"Sod off Weasley! That was six months ago, I've changed my mind!" interrupted Draco.

"This is a powerful tradition, Malfoy" growled Ron. "If you just barge in there, who knows what sort of magic you could invoke."

"But she needs me!" snarled Draco.

Hermione Granger Malfoy whimpered as the waves of agony assaulted her body. Who ever said giving birth in the natural way was a beautiful experience? _Must have been a man_ she thought wearily _or a complete nutter who got off on pain! _Hermione thought of her mother and was envious. Her mother had given birth in a clean hospital room, and she had been given drugs to ease her pain. Hermione had nothing. She was doing this in the 'traditional' way. _The worst idea I've EVER had!_ And Hermione's mother only ever did this once. Hermione however was facing the prospect of doing this twice in the space of a few minutes. _Never again! Never ever again! Two is enough, Draco can go to hell. He's not coming_ _within a foot of me again! _

"Hang in there 'Mione" said a sweet soothing voice. Ginny Potter (seven months pregnant with Harry's child) had arrived with the boys that afternoon. She had ducked out of the fireplace after flooing and rushed up the stairs (rather awkwardly given the weight she was bearing these days) to be at Hermione's side. That had been hours ago and she hadn't left Hermione once. _God bless you Gin._

This was a rather enlightening experience for Ginny, she was seeing first hand exactly what she would be going through in a few months time. She was now extremely relieved that she and Harry had decided against the 'traditional birthing rules'. She wasn't the only one of coarse, fewer and fewer wizards and witches were paying heed to the old ways anymore. But Hermione had read up on it and decided it was the way for her.

Before the birth the parents took part in a small ceremony and recited a few vows. The mother promised to bring her child into the world like her ancestors, without any drugs or potions, with only the aid of a healer and the support of her mother, sister or friend. And the father promised that under no circumstances would he enter the birthing room. It was all part of a protection spell for the mother and child. Any breech of the rules and the spell would be broken leaving mother and infant at risk. At first it would seem the father got the easy end of the deal but the spell heightened his anxiety for his family making separation from his wife almost impossible to bear. It was the job of his watchers then (Harry and Ron) to make sure he kept his vows.

"What the hell's up with the lights?" asked Ginny, frowning at the flickering lamps around the room.

It was then that a violent contraction, like a bolt of fire, hit Hermione and she screamed in agony and threw her head against the pillows. _Bugger me!_ Nothing she had felt so far had been as bad as that.

"Ah! This is it, pet" said the mediwitch, positioned between Hermione's legs. "The baby's head is crowning, get ready to push dear."

"I can't!" sobbed Hermione.

"Yes you can," encouraged Ginny "you're the toughest witch I know 'Mione. You can do this."

"Alright Mrs Malfoy ... PUSH!"

"I'm warning you Potter, if you don't let go of me I am going to hex you into the next century!" threatened Draco, straining against the two other men to reach the door.

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that without this?" said Harry, holding Malfoy's wand triumphantly above his head.

"Why you -!"

The glass shade above them shattered and rained down on their heads. Draco's collection of books were launched out of their shelves and went flying across the room smashing into the wall. Harry and Ron's chairs joined the books with a crash as the desk slammed into the window sill.

"Bloody Hell Malfoy!" cried Ron. "Get a grip will you!"

"What's happening?" grunted Harry, who despite being shaken by Draco's display of wandless magic had noticed an electrical charge in the air (_or magical charge_). He felt his hackles rise and his flesh turn to goosebumps. The light bulb, which had miraculously survived, was flickering more than ever. Little could the three of them know that every light in the house was doing the same thing. Now Ron noticed the change, felt it deep in his bones. Draco however, was too focussed on getting near the door. There was a guttural scream above them and the sound of things crashing about the room, like her husband Hermione had also unleashed her wandless magic.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on?" exclaimed Ron.

"Is this normal?" asked Ginny, ducking to avoid a shoe flying through the air.

"Oh! I ain't never seen nothin' like this" replied the mediwitch.

"I can't push anymore" moaned Hermione, unaware of the disturbance her magic was causing or indeed the other magic, an _old _magic that was crackling in the air.

"If I had a galleon for every time I heard that, missy, I'd be a rich woman!" chastised the mediwitch. "Now c'mon we're almost there, the baby's head is already out ... so push!"

"Come on Hermione, where's your Gryffindor resolve?" demanded Ginny.

"Gone the same way as my virginity!" retorted Hermione, making Ginny laugh out loud.

"Push Mrs Malfoy!" the mediwitch cut in.

Wishing all manner of evils on Draco for doing this to her, Hermione gritted her teeth and pushed with everything she was worth. Ginny bared her own teeth in a maniacal grimace as Hermione crushed the life out of her hand. Hot bolts of pain tore through Hermione's abdomen until she thought she might black out. All three women were past the point of noticing the gentle hum as the magic in the room grew in power. Hermione screamed as a white hot shaft of pain split through her stomach, she thought her body was being torn in half, and then suddenly she felt relief - sweet, glorious relief! - and she slumped against the pillows. But just as quickly she sat up again as she caught sight of what the mediwitch was holding.

_I must be delirious _Hermione thought hysterically staring between her legs. _I've lost my bloody mind! _The mediwitch sat frozen before her holding a tiny infant - _my baby _- in her hands, a mixture of alarm and wonder on her face. There was something ... odd ... about the baby. Alright, odd didn't exactly cover it. This was ... weird, bizarre, this was unheard of, this was the strangest thing she'd ever seen, this was ... magic! The baby was was glowing, it's little body enveloped by a bright blue light. All three women were filled with a sense of awe and amazement. Ginny and Hermione quickly glanced at each other then turned back, but the light was already dimming, the baby was turning pink and starting to squirm. Then he took his first lung-full of air and started to scream.

The mediwitch suddenly remembered her job and quickly wrapped the baby up and started cleaning him of the birthing fluids. She'd keep it to herself that the umbilical cord had mysteriously severed itself. _The sooner I get out of this madhouse the better! _As if nothing odd had happened, Hermione collapsed against her pillows again, heaving a heavy sigh. Ginny, whose mouth had been hanging open, snapped it closed and started clenching and unclenching her abused hand, trying to get the circulation going.

"Well 'Mione, just one more to go and we're done!" said Ginny brightly, earning a mutinous glare from Hermione.

"Here we go, Mrs Malfoy, your baby boy" said the mediwitch, depositing the little bundle into her arms.

Draco's fist froze exactly three inches from Harry's nose. He and the others looked up at the ceiling where the hiccuping wails of an infant could be heard. Draco let out an audible sigh of relief, he released the front of Harry's robes, then grunted as Ron clapped him hard on the back.

"Congratulations mate" he said, as Harry shook the stunned Slytherin's hand.

"Yeah, thanks" replied Draco dazedly. The baby's wailing settled down after a few minutes, and was quickly followed by the sound of hurried footsteps coming up the hall. Draco took his chance and ripped open the door coming face to face with a beaming Ginny Potter who held a small bundle in her arms.

"Would you like to meet your son, Draco?" she asked smiling widely. Draco only managed a dumfounded nod as Ginny passed the baby into his arms.

"I must dash, Hermione needs me" said Ginny grinning at the three of them before heading back upstairs.

Draco gazed down at the tiny infant in his arms, a torrent of emotions washing over him. He felt winded, and his heart seemed to swell with pride, wonder and love. Never in his entire life had Draco Malfoy felt so humbled. He had been preparing for this moment for nine months but he had never imagined he would feel quite like this. Draco felt himself well up, but - understandably - repressed the urge to break down and cry to preserve what shred of dignity he still had left. There was no way in hell he would openly weep in front of Pothead and the Weasel.

"Merlin! He's got white hair!" exclaimed Ron, peering over Draco's shoulder. "Your kid's weird Malfoy."

"He has _not _got white hair!" snapped Draco, outraged.

"It's worse than that Ron," said Harry wryly "he's got ferret hair."

Draco threw the boy-who-was-so-not-funny a withering glance before turning to his son. The baby had opened his eyes and was squinting up at him. Draco had been told that all newborns had blue eyes, but his baby was different, his baby had silver grey eyes just like his. It was a shock he had not expected and he barely managed to stifle the gasp that escaped him.

"Who'd you reckon he looks like?" asked Ron after a few minutes. _Isn't it obvious, you blibbering_ _idiot!_ Harry took a moment to answer, scrutinising to baby's face.

"Draco I think ..." the Slytherin beamed triumphantly. "... but without the sneer it's hard to tell." Draco's expression soured.

"Very funny" replied Draco dryly. "At least he wont grow into a speccy little git, with hair like a run-over badger" he added scathingly. Ron snickered behind his hand and Harry just rolled his eyes. The wizards gazed above them as the wails of a second infant filled the house. All the tension drained out of Draco's body. _Thank Merlin that's over, I can finally relax. _Ron and Harry looked equally relieved.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Harry curiously.

"Wyatt Alexander ... Hermione chose it" Draco answered, smiling down at his son.

"Mr Malfoy?" said a voice from the hallway. It was the mediwitch. "The second baby was a girl, sir. You can go up and see them now" she informed him.

"Hermione? Is she..."

"The missus is doing just fine, sir. She's asking to see ye" replied the witch.

Extremely overjoyed Draco hastened to be by his wife's side. "Give Hermione our love!" Harry called after him. As he reached the room where Hermione was resting, Ginny passed by him, patting his arm briefly in congratulations. Hermione was propped up in bed holding in her arms their baby girl, she looked more worn out than Draco had ever seen her, but at the same time radiant and deliriously happy. In a few short strides, Draco crossed the space separating them and perched himself on the bed, kissing Hermione on the forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, his emotions almost getting the better of him as he drank in the sight of her.

"I'm wonderful" she replied serenely, leaning closer to him. "Look little one" she spoke to the child in her arms "this is your Daddy." Draco's stomach did a funny somersault as the word Daddy was spoken.

"Is it really a girl?" he asked disbelievingly, moving the infant's blanket aside with one hand to check for himself. For some mysterious reason there hadn't been a girl born in the Malfoy line for over four generations.

"Yes" confirmed Hermione, smiling at her husband. She glanced down at Wyatt, asleep in his father's arms and stroked his head of soft pale hair. She'd only managed to hold him for a minute before she was hit by another contraction and he was whisked out of her arms. That contraction - oddly enough - and those that followed weren't nearly as painful as the ones she'd experienced earlier.

"What are we going to call her?" asked Draco "I'm guessing Warren Arthur, is no longer an option. We never really thought about girl names. I just assumed we'd have boys."

"Well ... I do have a few ideas ..." said Hermione.

"Ah!" said Draco with a grin "Should have known you'd be prepared, Granger. Well let's hear them then."

"What do you think of Mira?"

"Mira? Hmmmm ... Mira Malfoy - say that has a nice ring to it! And her middle name?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Elizabeth, after my favourite Jane Austen novel" _and as a private tribute to literature's sexiest character, Mr Darcy_ _sigh._

"Mira Elizabeth Malfoy" repeated Draco, testing the name out. "Yes, I like how that sounds."

Draco bent his head and brushed his lips against Hermione's. She smiled then yawned violently. With one arm supporting Wyatt, Draco used the other to draw his wife against his chest. Hermione sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. As exhaustion got the better of the young woman and she succumbed to sleep, Draco kept a happy vigilance over his family.

Far away across an ocean, in the bowels of a crumbling, decrepit castle someone was stirring from a trance. The wizened seer opened his large pale eyes and gave a startled gasp. The vision which had been evading him for nearly a century now had come to him at last. As quickly as he could - which wasn't very quick at all - he hauled himself out of the hard-backed chair he'd been sitting in, almost overturning a round table next to the chair. Lighting his wand he shuffled over to the old crumbling stone staircase and began to climb. Two levels later the seer, panting heavily, rapped his boney knuckles against a solid oak door.

"Enter" said a weary voice from within the room. Nervously the old seer pushed open the door and slipped inside. The owner of the voice stood in silhouette before an enormous stone fireplace, which despite it's size, was not enough to banish the cold and dark of the large empty chamber.

"Yes Randall, what is it?" asked the figure by the fire, clearly annoyed about being disturbed.

"My lord, Galen ... I have important news, sir" began the seer urgently.

"Oh really?" drawled Galen, gazing intently at the flickering flames. "Has the west wing fallen again? Lord knows we could do with the excitement."

"No my lord, nothing like that ... it's the boy sir, the child we have waited for ... I have seen him" replied Randall, the words spilling from his mouth in his haste to report.

"What!" said Galen, snapping round to face the seer. His face was obscured by a strange silver mask, making his already impressive demeanor all the more intimidating. Randall couldn't help it, he flinched at the sight. No matter how many times he came face to face with the silver mask and it's terrible owner he could never get used to it.

"It has happened then?" he asked, his tone disbelieving. "When Randall? Where?"

"No more than an hour ago, my lord, somewhere in England" answered Randall obediently.

"Excellent!" cried Galen triumphantly. "Finally, after all this time of skulking in darkness, we can reveal ourselves and take what is rightfully ours. Randall! Summon the others, the boy must be tracked down. Only then can we confirm that he is the one."

"Yes my lord, at once" said Randall reaching for the door.

"Randall?" said Galen. The seer halted at the threshold.

"Yes sir?" asked Randall nervously.

"The boy ... what is his name?" asked Galen, his gaze once again on the fire.

"Wyatt sir ... Wyatt Malfoy."


	2. Chapter 2

1**Chapter Two**

**Author's Notes: **_Should have put this in chapter one - but hey - who cares? Besides I'm new to this. For this story to be able to exist it is set in an alternative universe where certain events after book five never took place, such as Dumbledore's death - for the simple reason that he's one of my favourite characters and I can't stand to refer to him in the past tense. I've also taken it upon myself to resurrect_ _certain other characters that were so mercilessly_ _taken from us in the last book. I mean what was up with that anyway? Lets kill all our favourite characters one by one and traumatize millions of children all around the world - not mention adults and teenagers! Why didn't more Death-eaters_ _die?! And another thing, what about poor George? It wasn't bad enough that he lost his ear - to Snape no less - but he had to lose his identical twin too?!! You are one sick woman J.K.! - _panting heavily from suppressed rage - _right well ... er ... please enjoy the story_

**Disclaimer: **_Obviously I don't own any of these characters that privilege belongs to another Scottish woman I'm afraid_.

The twins weren't even twenty four hours old yet and already they were facing a visit from Lucius Malfoy and his wife. To be fair, the ex Death-eater was pretty harmless these days. The fact he was even visiting was something of a miracle (as odd as that sounds). Draco, had after all, refused the to take the Dark Mark, joining forces with the Order instead. He had been quite adamant that he would not become one of Voldermort's pawns. And there were other, more personal reasons, which kept Draco from joining the Death-eaters: like the secret crush on one Hermione Granger he'd been harbouring since first year. With him finally in control of his own life he was finally able to act upon those feelings.

Draco's betrayal cut Lucius deeply, and finally forced him to take a long hard look at himself and exactly what he had become. He had followed Voldermort since his Hogwarts days. He had been promised power, riches and most importantly the eradication of muggles and mudbloods. The Malfoy name already held a certain degree of power, and of coarse his family was one of the wealthiest in the wizarding world, so it was mainly the latter promise that made him join the young league of Death-eaters. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, encouraged this endeavour. Malfoy senior had, after all, taught his son all about the _filthy_, _disgusting_, stupid little muggles and the equally vile mudbloods that they spawned, who were not _worthy _of the magic running through their muddy veins!

But Lucius had never expected that becoming a Death-eater meant committing heinous acts almost on a daily basis. Yes, he was all for scourging the world of muggles and the like, but he had never imagined that he'd be doing the dirty work himself. Malfoys' may be cruel and evil but they were not criminals, and they were _not _murderers. He hated the smell of blood, and how it felt on his hands, he hated the look on peoples faces just as the light left their eyes, he hated the way his wife would look at him sometimes, almost as if she were afraid of him. But he did it anyway, he followed orders, did what was expected of a faithful Death-eater. All of it out of fear, for the Dark lord grew more violent and unstable with each passing day, turning his wrath regularly on his own followers. So Lucius did what was beneath him, he grovelled and simpered, he murdered and maimed, all the while pretending he enjoyed it.

But what had all this faithful service achieved? Nothing. His family was still wealthy, but no more so than before his enlistment with Voldermort, he hadn't gained any power, and there wasn't a noticeable decrease to the muggle population. He had however been tortured and humiliated; had his life and the lives of his family threatened on numerous occasions; practically destroyed his marriage because of his actions; neglected his son because of Voldermort's Pureblood 'teachings'; had his home raided by ministry officials; lost a house elf trying to get rid of a diary; spent time in Azkaban prison; and lost any respect his son might have ever had for him. And for what? A man who was constantly being thwarted by a young boy.

When Voldermort ordered him to execute his own son, Draco, for not taking the mark, it finally happened, Lucius snapped. He did something he'd swore he would never _ever _do, he went to Dumbledore and begged for his help. He realised then it just wasn't worth it anymore. He was sick of the struggle, sick of living in fear, sick of being ordered about when a person of his standing should rightly be giving the orders, sick with how his life had turned out. And that was how Lucius Malfoy joined the good side. But before Narcissa Malfoy could breathe a sigh of relief and be happily reunited with her son, Lucius discovered something quite serious. His son was dating Hermione Granger. To say Lucius was outraged would be an understatement, he went completely ballistic. He may have turned his back against the Dark lord but that didn't mean he had changed his opinions on muggle-borns.

There were many rows over the situation, Lucius threatened to disown Draco countless times and cut his inheritance, but the young Malfoy refused budge, he had his freedom now and he wasn't about to give up that or Hermione for anyone. For a long time the father-son-relationship lay in tatters and it seemed unlikely that they would ever speak to each other again. It was Narcissa who convinced Lucius at last, that times had changed and therefore he should too. He had, however reluctantly, accepted Draco's and Hermione's relationship and did his very best to be civil when in her presence. Slowly he was making amendments for his previous crimes, and gradually building a new relationship with his son.

Hermione was down in the lounge (despite all Draco's best efforts to keep her in bed) awaiting the Malfoy's arrival. Mira and Wyatt were asleep in a sweet little bassinet next to the sofa. The junior Malfoy's lived in the country just west of London, in a large Victorian house, which compared to Malfoy manor was quite cosy. The house had three bedrooms, the smallest of which having been transformed into a nursery, a small study, a modest library (where Hermione spent much of her time), a spacious kitchen come dining area, and a beautiful attic space full of junk. The house looked out to a large green lawn bordered by hedges, trees, grassy hills and fields. Presently a deep gong reverberated around the house, Hermione sighed as the twins jerked awake.

"Oh Draco, when are you going to get rid of that ridiculous doorbell? I just got them to sleep!" she exclaimed irritably.

"I know, I know it's on my to-do-list" he assured her sheepishly, striding across the room to answer the front door. "Still -" he called from the hallway "- you can't deny it doesn't add a little character to the place!" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation and prepared herself for Lucius' visit. From the hall she could hear jubilant voices, Mr and Mrs Malfoy offering Draco their congratulations.

"Right" said Lucius swaggering into the room "Where are my grandsons then?" He spotted the bassinet and instantly moved toward it as Narcissa and Draco entered the room.

"That's grandson and granddaughter" corrected Hermione.

"A girl?" said Lucius, raising an eyebrow in Hermione's direction. "Marvelous! Perhaps there's an advantage to having a mud- I mean muggle-born in the family" he said, giving Hermione a slight bow.

"What have you named them dear?" Narcissa asked Hermione, peering down at the twins fondly.

"Wyatt and Mira" Draco answered before his wife could. "How lovely" said Narcissa.

"Yes, they've definitely got the Malfoy genes" Lucius announced pompously. "I can see that straight away."

"I'm not so sure" Draco disagreed lightly. "Personally I can see a lot of Hermione in them" he said, grinning at his wife. Lucius raised a sceptical eyebrow but said nothing. Mira, having been awakened by the doorbell, began to fuss.

"May I?" said Narcissa, asking Hermione's permission to pick the infant up.

"Of course, Narcissa, you are their grandmother after all" replied Hermione smiling.

"Come here, my darling" cooed Narcissa, scooping up Mira with practiced grace. "Oh aren't you just precious." She bent her head and kissed the baby's forehead. "Oh, it feels like it was just yesterday that Draco was this size, where does the time go?"

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes. "Please, mother, don't get sentimental on me."

"She's been talking like that since we received your owl last night" said Lucius wearily. "Most tiresome. And she wanted to mark this joyous occasion by embarrassing you in front of your wife, Draco."

"Oh nonsense! I had no intention of embarrassing him, don't listen to him Draco."

"She wanted to bring the baby book with us today, to show Hermione. I'm sure you know which one I mean?" said Lucius, giving Draco a pointed look.

"What!" cried Draco, horrified. "Not the one with me on t-the bearskin rug, and in the bath ... and ... and stuff?" he said, blushing slightly as Hermione began to snigger behind her hands.

"The very same" said Lucius gravely. "Had to pry the damn thing out of her hands before we left this morning."

"I just thought Hermione would be interested in seeing her husband in a ... a different light" said Narcissa defensively.

"A different light?" said Draco incredulously, frowning at Hermione as she began to laugh.

"You must bring it round next time you come, Narcissa," giggled Hermione "I'd be fascinated to see what Draco was like as a baby."

"You see, I told you so" said Narcissa triumphantly, while Draco blanched.

"Come, Draco, my lad. Let's have a drink to celebrate eh?" said Lucius suddenly, leading his son out of the room and towards the study and drinks cabinet. Draco was very grateful for the interruption.

"You know I agree with Draco," said Narcissa thoughtfully, studying Mira's face. "I can see a lot of you in the twins, particularly the mouth it's the same shape as yours. Perhaps they'll inherit your wonderful curls?" she smiled affectionately at the young mother. "How adorable that would look with Draco's colouring?" She lowered the baby back into the bassinet and took a seat next to Hermione on the couch.

"We should have a proper celebration to mark the twins' birth, in fact I think we should have a wiccaning."

"A wiccaning?" asked Hermione.

"It's a naming ceremony, and a way to welcome our children into the magical community. The ritual dates back to our druid ancestors" explained Narcissa.

"Really?" said Hermione, fascinated.

"Sadly, not many wizards practice the ritual these days. But I've always found it to be a beautiful ceremony. Oh! And you must pick wiccan names for the twins."

"Wiccan names? But -"

"It's just part of the ritual dear. In ancient times a child was known by his wiccan name when amongst his coven. My own wiccan name," said Narcissa leaning closer and lowering her voice "happens to be Leandra. I never have found out what it means, but I've always thought it sounded rather pretty ... a shame really that I never actually use it, but that's just the way things are."

"What's Draco's wiccan name?" asked Hermione curiously, surprised that she was whispering.

"Draco's is Konane (_koh-nah-neh_), it means 'bright as the moon'" answered Narcissa. "Which suits him very well considering how blonde he is."

"A wiccaning sounds like a wonderful idea, I'd love to have one for the twins" said Hermione enthusiastically. "Oh" she hesitated "but I bet there's a lot to organise ... and with the twins, I'm going to be very busy over the coming months..."

"Well if you like dear, I could handle everything for you" offered Narcissa "you just tell me what you want, the location, the guests and leave the rest to me."

"Thank you Narcissa, that would be brilliant" said Hermione gratefully.

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Draco had just followed his father into his study when he suddenly found himself in an embrace. To say the young Slytherin was surprised would be an understatement and the look on his handsome face was priceless - a shame really that no-one was there to see it. Lucius Malfoy hardly ever gave out hugs, in fact Draco was sure he could count the number of times his father had hugged him on one hand. Somehow he recovered his senses and returned the embrace feeling bemused.

"Congratulations son" said Lucius, his voice a little gruffer than normal.

"Thank you, father."

The elder Malfoy pulled back then looking Draco square in the eye and gripping his shoulders.

"I know I did a very poor job raising you, Draco, and I'm sorry for that. But I promise I wont make the same mistakes with my grandchildren."

Speechless Draco stared at his father in shock. _Am I really hearing this?_

"You're not like me, Draco, and I know for sure that you are going to make a fine father."

He cleared his throat then, dropping his hands from Draco's shoulders he turned away toward the drinks cabinet next to Draco's book shelf.

"T-thank you" stuttered Draco numbly.

Lucius simply grunted and nodded his head, he was busy pouring out drinks. Giving himself a mental shake Draco joined his father and took the glass of sherry offered to him. Later when the men returned to the sitting room they found Hermione and Narcissa having an animated conversation and pouring over several books spread over the coffee table.

"Ah, Lucius darling, I need you to owl Salem Nyx when we get home" was Narcissa's way of greeting them.

"But he's dead isn't he?" replied Lucius incredulously, raising his eyebrows. "Died last year of a stroke if I recall correctly."

"No, dear" sighed Narcissa "that was Samuel Nixon. I'm talking about Salem Nyx, the priest!"

"Priest? What do we need a priest for?"

"We're having a wiccaning" announced Narcissa.

"Oh. There's no need, dear, I've already had one" retorted Lucius with a smirk.

"Oh har, har. Very droll..." said Narcissa, her tone waspish. "I know that you buffoon! It's for the twins!"

"Buffoon? I hardly think I deserved that" said Lucius reproachfully.

"Mother not a wiccaning, it's so much hassle to arrange one! We've just had twins for Merlin's sakes" complained Draco.

"That's why your father and I will handle everything. Don't worry about a thing. Besides, Hermione has her heart set on having a wiccaning," she put in for extra measure "you're not going to disappoint her are you?"

"No of coarse not" grumbled Draco.

"Of coarse they're having a wiccaning, all Malfoy's have wiccanings! It's essential they receive their ancestral blessings" added Lucius. He glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece then addressed Narcissa "I think we should be going, my love, I have several meetings scheduled for today. Must keep on top of things."

"Already?" asked Draco, sounding disappointed. "But you haven't even held either of the twins yet!"

"I - urgh - I'm not sure that's such a good idea" muttered Lucius, scratching his chin uneasily.

"Don't waste your time, Draco, your father always was afraid of babies" said Narcissa.

"I'm not afraid!" he cried indignantly "I just - just don't know ... _how_ to ... to hold a baby. I don't want to hurt them or worse _drop_ them!"

"Perhaps you're just afraid they'll be sick on you" muttered Narcissa flicking through a book on her lap.

Lucius' eyes widened in alarm, apparently this thought hadn't occurred to him until his wife had brought it up. He glanced fearfully at the bassinet as if the twins were a pair of cobras ready to strike.

"Don't be silly, Lucius" said Hermione, heaving herself off the couch. "There's no need to worry. Holding a baby is easy," bending over the bassinet she lifted Wyatt into her arms "here we go." Lucius tried to stutter an objection but - too late - the baby was in his arms and Hermione was explaining the correct way to support him.

Wyatt was wide awake and peered up at his grandfather with large dove-grey eyes. Grudgingly Lucius had to admit that there was indeed a likeness to Hermione in Wyatt's face, it was heart-shaped like hers and quite round in the jaw, but the chin, that was Draco, that was the trademark Malfoy chin. He continued to stare at his grandson, feeling a peculiar emotion rising up in his chest and flooding his body with warmth. The longer he stared the more beautiful Wyatt became. The others watched silently as a smile slowly crept onto the older Malfoy's face. Wyatt yawned and waved a little fist in the air, which Lucius took hold of between a thumb and forefinger.

"I'd forgotten" he mumbled, apparently without meaning to.

"What was that, dear?" croaked Narcissa, who suddenly looked misty eyed.

"I - I'd forgotten how small they are, babies I mean" said Lucius quietly. His eyebrows knitted together in a small frown and he asked "Narcissa, what's today's date?"

"Date? Third of February, why?"

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Lucius, much to everyone's confusion. "How extraordinary."

"Well don't you see?" he said, peering round at all the blank faces. "Don't you know what day it was yesterday?"

Narcissa suddenly gasped, increasing Draco and Hermione's confusion. "Goodness you're right! I never thought about it, yesterday was Imbolc." At this Draco and Hermione shared a guilty look, with all the drama that went on yesterday they hadn't actually stopped to think about the date of their twins' birth, never mind it's significance.

"Well that certainly has to be a good omen for the future" stated Lucius. "Right we best be going."

"Here I'll take him" said Draco eagerly, stepping forward.

With a few more words of congratulations, and with a little more fussing over the twins on Narcissa's part, the elder Malfoys left the house and disapparated on the door step. Leaving the young couple alone and in peace. Draco made himself comfortable in the armchair across from Hermione, his baby son still held securely in his arms. A brilliant smile lit up his face as he watched Wyatt slowly slip off to sleep. Hermione watched them from the couch, her head held in her hand and the corners of her mouth turning up in a content smile of her own. _Draco's going to be a great Dad_ she thought happily, recalling his worry when she had told him that she was pregnant. Draco had been terrified that he would make a terrible father, given his rather unorthodox upbringing. Hermione had lost count of how many times she had tried to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about.

"Just because your father did a poor job raising you, doesn't mean you'll be the same with our children!" she had told him heatedly, during one of their many arguments over the subject.

But no matter how many times he was reassured, not only from her but from Ron and Harry and even Mr Weasley at one stage, the anxiety remained just beneath the surface. But looking at him now Hermione could see that the anxiety was gone. It had dissolved the moment he had seen Wyatt's face. She made a move to curl her legs beneath her but hissed in sudden pain, even with the potion the mediwitch had given her she was still in a bit of discomfort. Draco's head instantly shot up.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the potion? Maybe I could get you some tea, or run you a bath, would that help?" he gabbled, gazing at her in concern.

"No no, I'm fine honest" she answered sincerely. "I just need some rest and little peace and quiet, that's all."

"You really should be in bed" he told her for what was probably the hundredth time.

"You know, I thought once I'd actually given birth, people would stop treating me like I was an invalid" said Hermione crossly, folding her arms.

"You can't blame a man for trying" replied Draco with an annoying smirk. "I just want to know you're alright."

"I am" said Hermione, a stunning smile spreading over her face. Which Draco returned with a devilish one of his own.

Unfortunately Hermione did not get her wish for peace and quiet, or indeed the rest she so desperately needed because forty minutes later the clan showed up. Bursting out of the fireplace unexpectedly (scaring the living daylights out of Draco and Hermione) Harry, Ron and Ginny - laden down with balloons, stuffed animals, champagne and a box of cigars - called out their greetings and congratulations in loud jubilant voices so that the twins jerked awake yet again. Inwardly both Draco and Hermione groaned.

-------------------------------------------

**Author's Notes:**

**Imbolc**

"This season belongs to Brigid, the Celtic goddess…Originally, her festival on February 1 was known as Imbolc or Oimelc, two names which refer to the lactation of the ewes, the flow of milk that heralds the return of the life-giving forces of spring.

In most parts of the British Isles, February is a harsh and bitter month. In old Scotland, the month fell in the middle of the period known as Faoilleach, the Wolf-month; it was also known as a' marbh mhiòs, the Dead-month. But although this season was so cold and drear, small but sturdy signs of new life began to appear: Lambs were born and soft rain brought new grass. Ravens began to build their nests and larks were said to sing with a clearer voice."


	3. Chapter 3

1**Chapter Three**

**Author's Notes: **_For this story to be able to exist it is set in an alternative universe where certain events after book five never took place, such as Dumbledore's death - for the simple reason that he's one of my favourite characters and I can't stand to refer to him in the past tense. I've also taken it upon myself to resurrect_ _certain other characters that were so mercilessly_ _taken from us in the last book._

_A big thank you to those who have left comments, I really appreciate the feedback so please keep them coming. By the way, I hope you enjoy long fictions since I have plans to keep this going for as long as I'm able. Lets hope I can pull it off!_

_P.S. If you think Draco is getting too nice at any time let me know, I wouldn't want to ruin his reputation completely._

**Disclaimer: **_If I really wanted to make money off these characters do you really think I'd be posting my stories on the internet and using their real names? No, I would have published a book using names like Drake Melfoy, Hermia Grange, Larry Otter and Donald Stoat!_

"Hi guys" said Hermione mustering a cheerful tone, and avoiding Draco's steely gaze that was burning a hole in the sofa cushion behind her head.

"How are you feeling, pet?" asked Harry, giving her a one-armed hug and a quick peck on the cheek. An action that made Draco scowl even harder.

"Fine, a bit tired" answered Hermione, hoping he would take the hint. He didn't.

"Hermione! Look at this adorable teddy bear mum found. Here, press it's paw, go on press it" said Ginny enthusiastically, holding out a bear that could be out of the Steif family.

"Ginny -"

"Go on press his paw, you'll be amazed!" insisted Ginny.

Begrudgingly Hermione took the stupid bear from her friend, and pressed it's stupid paw. The bear lifted it's long muzzle, stared at her and then blinked it's beady black eyes. Hermione's own eyes widened in alarm.

"Hello pretty lady" said the bear in a low grainy voice.

"Urgh!" cried Hermione, throwing the teddy across the room in horror.

"Aww, don't you like it?" asked Ginny plaintively.

"I told you she wouldn't," said Harry "toys don't talk in the muggle world, at least not realistically. Besides, you've never seen 'Chuckie'."

As Ginny moved aside Ron stepped forward and offered Hermione another hug and kiss, which only darkened Draco's mood even more. It was one thing for Potter to kiss Hermione, quite another for Weasley to do it. It was no secret, after all, that he and Hermione had once been an item. Draco was now giving the weasel his patented Slytherin Death-glare - which in normal circumstances could reduce a person to tears - but Weasley, the brainless oaf, hadn't even noticed! This just annoyed Draco even more.

"Mum says she might drop by later to see you" Ron told Hermione cheerfully.

"Fan-bloody-tastic!" muttered Draco. It wasn't that he didn't like Mrs Weasley - actually he had grown quite fond of her over the years - but he didn't feel up to one of her visits today. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that so wrong? Hermione was still recovering from her ordeal yesterday, and he was pretty tired himself since he'd stayed up half the night watching her and the twins sleep. And where there was one Weasley, there was always more not far behind. Besides, it should be Hermione's parents getting first priority to see the twins, unfortunately they were in Sweden attending a dental conference. Ironically, Alison Granger had worried this exact scenario might happen, that she'd miss the birth of her own grandchildren. It had taken a lot of persuading from Draco, Hermione and her husband -who wasn't about to pass up a free holiday- to convince her she should go. _What a mistake that had been!_

"Which one's that?" asked Harry, leaning over Draco's shoulder and making him start. "Is it Mia?"

"No you stupid, four-eyed twat, it's my son - _can't you see he's wearing blue!_ And for your information, Potter, it's _Mira_ not Mia!" said Draco furiously.

"Alright, alright ... keep your hair on, bleach head" retorted Harry. "Is it alright if I hold him?"

"NO!" snapped Draco.

"What? Why not?" demanded Harry.

"Because ...!" Draco's inner Slytherin groaned and smacked a hand to it's devilishly good looking face. _That's the best you can do? _

"Stop being such an arsehole, Malfoy, and grow up. It's not like I'm going to hurt him or anything, come on!"

"NO! Sod off!"

"Hermione!" whined Harry "Your jackass husband wont let me hold Wyatt!"

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Boy-wonder. _You, Harry Potter, are an evil, evil bastard! Calling in another man's wife to back you up _... _that's just WRONG! I wont forget this, Potter, mark my words. I'll get even, just you wait, the world shall know that you are not the goody-good you claim to be._

"Draco, for heavens sakes, stop being such a child. Let Harry have a turn with Wyatt" said Hermione.

"But -!"

"Don't argue with me" she interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously. Draco's inner Slytherin was shaking it's head ruefully, _Salazar_ _would be turning in his grave if he could see you now. You have been well and truly whipped Malfoy._

With extreme reluctance Draco vacated his seat, letting Potter - who was wearing an infuriating grin - take his place. Carefully he lowered the baby into Harry's arms, feeling an unpleasant tug on his heart as he did so.

"Just be carful with him," he warned Harry "don't squeeze him too hard, keep his head up, don't -"

"Yeah, yeah - don't get your longjohns in a twist. I've held a baby before you know."

Draco spluttered indignantly. _How could he possibly ...?_ His head snapped toward Hermione, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze. _You told Potter what kind of underpants I wear?! UNBELIEVABLE!!! Why don't you just stick me in a pink bunny suit and parade me around Diagon Alley, it would be less humiliating than this! _With a deep throated growl he threw himself down next to his wife, folding his arms aggressively across his broad chest. Hermione patted his thigh consolingly, which he ignored, watching Wyatt protectively.

"Hello my ickle darling," crooned Ginny, leaning over the bassinet and Mira. "I'm your auntie Ginny, and you've got the sweetest little face - yes you dooo - yes you dooo!"

"I think I'm going to be sick - yes I dooo - yes I dooo!" mocked Draco, earning himself a sharp elbow in the gut.

"This baby looks exactly like the other one" said Ron lamely, peering down at Mira. Hermione, Ginny and Harry groaned.

"By Jove, I think you're right!" said Draco, surprising everyone "that would explain the '_identical_' in 'identical twins'! You've outdone yourself this time Weasley, you really are a genius."

Ron blushed to the roots of his flaming red hair. Harry bent his head further over baby Wyatt, his shoulders shaking from silent mirth. Hermione pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to smile. Ginny, who had no such qualms, threw her head back and laughed.

"Stupid prick!" said Ron.

"Ouch, Weasley, that really stung. How will we ever get anywhere in our relationship if you keep pushing me away?" drawled Draco.

Ron harrumphed and folded his arms. Getting in a few barbs lightened Draco's mood considerably, forgetting his ill feelings toward Hermione for the time being, he looped his arm around her shoulders tugging her closer to his chest and letting her head lean against his shoulder. He breathed in her intoxicating scent of jasmine and lavender and let a small smile curl the corners of his mouth.

"What I meant," continued Ron, peevishly "is that I wasn't expecting them to look exactly the same, given they're not the same sex. I've heard that boy and girl twins don't normally look that much alike."

"In most cases, but not all" said Hermione. "I should know, I -"

"- did the research" chorused Draco, Harry, Ron and Ginny.

Leaning forward slightly, Draco nuzzled his nose against Hermione's chestnut curls affectionately. Ginny, who had now seized hold of poor Mira, sat down heavily next to him while Ron perched on the armrest of Harry's chair.

"So, when do you expect your parents to get back?" asked Ginny.

"Tomorrow hopefully, or the day after. It depends when they can get a flight" explained Hermione. "Mum was frantic when I called her this morning, almost hysterical. And Merlin she kept going on and on about how I should be in bed and doing this and -"

"That's odd" interrupted Harry suddenly.

"Why should it be odd? She's my mother, it's only natural for her to worry about me."

"No! Not that, I mean Wyatt" Harry explained.

"What?" demanded Draco, snapping to protective father in an instant. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything, you git, here look at this" he got up from the chair and kneeled at Draco's legs (much to the Slytherin's alarm) "he's got this mark on his right hand. It's weird."

The couple leaned forward and peered at Wyatt's open palm, where there was indeed an unusual blemish on the otherwise ordinary pink little hand. At first glance it looked like a rust-coloured stain, but Draco leaning closer still - so that his head was uncomfortably close to Potter's - could start to make out a distinct shape. Cold fear gripped his heart.

"Is that - _a spiral_?" asked Hermione disbelievingly.

It certainly was, like a loose curl winding in toward the hollow of Wyatt's palm. Draco couldn't stop staring, his heart was pounding and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe. He was stupid to let this scare him, but he couldn't help it, he was a pureblood after all. It was a mediaeval superstition, so very few muggle-borns ever heard of it, but it was still believed by the pureblood families that a child born with an unusual mark such as this, was a cursed child. There were many examples in history of mysterious things happening to witches and wizards with strange marks. In some cases, these marks had been the downfall of wizards, when muggles had been especially fearful of witchcraft, those that were discovered paid with their lives for the marks they bore. But as far as Draco knew, there hadn't been a marked child born for centuries.

Of coarse Harry and Hermione knew nothing of this, and stared at the peculiar mark with curiosity. The Weasleys however had both paled like Draco, and shared a look of horror with each other.

"He's got a mark?" asked Ron fearfully "but that means ..."

Behind Draco's hunched form, Ginny waved her arm frantically at her dense brother. _Don't say it Weasley _thought Draco desperately _don't you dare say it, don't say it out loud, please! Don't, Don't _, _DON'T!!!_

"...he's cursed!" finished Ron, making Draco want to strangle him.

"What?" croaked Hermione, looking up anxiously.

"It's nothing, ignore him" said Ginny hastily.

"Don't be thick, Ron" said Harry.

"Ask Malfoy if you don't believe me, he'll know all about it!" persisted Ron, jabbing a finger at Draco's head.

"Draco?" said Hermione, turning to him with fear in her eyes. _Oh Gods, what do I say?_

"Superstitious claptrap!" he assured her, trying to convince himself.

"Exactly" agreed Ginny, for Hermione's sake. "Stop living in the Dark ages Ron!"

"But it's -"

"C'mon Ron, don't be daft. How can you be cursed because of a birthmark?" asked Harry dubiously.

"You've got a mark, and your life has hardly been a bed of roses!" argued Ron stubbornly.

"That's completely different! My mark was cut into my head at age one by Voldermort, I wasn't born with it!" retorted Harry angrily.

"Born with it or not being marked is not a -"

"You know, Weasley, if you don't stop talking about this crap, I'll have to ask you to leave!" said Draco, savagely.

"Ginny, back me up here!"

"Shut up Ron, you're scaring Hermione" hissed Ginny.

Ron guiltily ran a hand through his fiery hair. "Look, 'Mione, I'm sorry ... just ignore me okay ... I'm probably too old to believe in this mumbo-jumbo anyhow."

"You're sure there's nothing to worry about?" Hermione asked the room at large.

"Absolutely" said Ginny.

"Nothing at all, only idiots believe in this nonsense" added Draco.

"It's just like all that Grim baloney back in third year, and look how that turned out" Harry put in cheerfully.

"Yeah, you're right" sighed Hermione.

_So ..._ said Draco's evil inner Slytherin _does that make you an idiot then? _Thankfully Draco managed to keep the scowl that so desperately wanted to creep onto his face from appearing. _Oh shut up_ he thought back viciously. The truth was he was as scared as hell for what this weird mark meant for Wyatt's future.

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Galen paced up and down the length of the small table restlessly, growing more frustrated and infuriated by the second. Despite his activity he was quiet, not even his fluid midnight robes made a sound as they dragged across the cold stone floor. For Galen understood the importance of silence during a crucial moment like this, so no matter how impatient he grew or how enraged he became he would not interrupt. The seer Randall was seated at the table, with his eyes closed, his mind still and his inner eye open and pulsating with psychic energy. In his outstretched hand, hovering above a yellowed, fraying map of Britain and tied to a length of cord was an amethyst crystal which slowly turned in clock-wise circles.

The seer was scrying - an ancient form of Divination, rarely used by modern wizards to locate a persons' exact location - trying with all of his might to find the boy. Problem was he'd been trying for over four hours now and the crystal hadn't touched the map once. Randall was exhausted and the strain was starting to show in his heavily lined face. He was also starting to feel severe pain in his temples, always a clear warning that he should stop and rest. But he dare not stop, not yet at least. His master was counting on him to track down the child, and Randall feared what might happen if he failed. Galen wouldn't kill him, Randall knew this, he was the only seer among them and therefore too valuable to kill. This fact however, was not a relief, for as Randall had learned ... there are worse things than death.

Unfortunately Randall's stamina had been stretched too far - he was, after all, immensely old - and it chose that precise moment to snap like a rubber band pulled too tight. Pain exploded in his head and Randall collapsed with a groan almost pitching his fragile skull into the hard oak table top. Surprisingly Galen caught his shoulder before the seer could meet his own demise (Randall would decide later whether that was a good or bad thing) laying his head on the table with unnatural gentleness.

"What's taking so long!" snarled Galen fiercely, his tone contrasting his actions completely.

"Forgive me my lord ..." gasped Randall desperately.

"I don't want excuses, I want results! _I want the boy!!!_" roared Galen, making Randall flinch. "The sooner we extract him from his parents the better. _Did I not make that clear?_ I have not waited for this moment for _three centuries _for you to ruin all our plans! I warn you, Randall, if you fail me -"

"No my lord, please!" begged Randall "I will not fail you, I swear. I shall find the boy, I shall ... just let me try again."

"How hard can it be to find _one child _on an island as small as _Britain?!_" demanded Galen furiously.

"It's not my fault, lord Galen" explained Randall hastily "there's some kind of interference, something blocking the child's position and no matter how many times I try, I can't penetrate it!"

"Yes that makes sense" said Galen quietly, releasing the death-grip he'd been keeping on Randall's scrawny neck.

"Yes, that makes perfect sense" he repeated in a much calmer voice. "You should have said something earlier, Randall, we could have had this done with hours ago" he chastised. "Sit up, Randall and we shall go again."

The seer dare not argue and quickly resumed his original position. As the crystal began to circle again he felt Galen's powerful hand close around his bony wrist. The crystal began to spin faster than ever, faster than Randall had ever felt it spin before. As his eyes were still closed he did not see the maniacal glint in Galen's eyes nor the bright purple light which was the crystal. He reached out with his mind, searching for the unique presence that was the boy, the presence he had touched briefly in his vision. Almost immediately he came across that barrier of energy, the likes of which he had never encountered before in his entire life. But it was different this time, not nearly as solid as it had been. With a few more minutes of prodding and exploring the barrier he felt it suddenly shatter around him.

Suddenly, there he was! There was the boy, the long awaited saviour, the answer to all their problems, the leader to guide them to a glorious new future, there he was glowing in the dark like a beacon of hope. Randall felt the familiar magnetic tug on his arm which meant he had succeeded in doing his job. With a thud the crystal dropped to the map, pointing out Wyatt Malfoy's home, a large Victorian house in the country, just outside London. Behind Randall, Galen's chest began to vibrate with a deep rumbling chuckle.

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**Author's Notes:** _I got the idea for Wyatt's birthmark from a book I'm reading right now called 'Runemarks' which is a brilliant take on ancient celtic Gods such as Odin and Loki and is set in this amazing world of magic and superstition. Although in the book the mark on the girls' palm is not a spiral, but something else entirely. Just thought you'd be interested._

_So? How did you enjoy chapter three? Please let me know, I love getting your reviews. Chapter four coming soon._


	4. Chapter 4

1**Chapter Four**

**Author's Notes:**_ I started this chapter with a bit of writer's block so I hope it's alright. God writer's block is a real pain, staring at a computer screen for hours on end trying to form one sentence is no fun at all! I really hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think so I know I'm not screwing it up._

_And a big thank you to everyone that reviewed Chapter 3 I get all giddy when I see I have an alert from (yes, I really am that sad). Oh and one more thing, I know there hasn't been much romance between Draco and Hermione yet, I promise there will be in future chapters, just remember I'm still new to all this sort of thing and I'm a little unsure how to go about it. So I intend to read lots of other excellent fanfictions to help me out._

**Disclaimer:**_ These are not my characters ... Blah Blah Blah ... J.K Rowling ... Blah Blah Blah ... No profit is being made ... Blah Blah Bloody Blah!_

After the discovery of Wyatt's spiral-marked hand things were, to say the least, a little awkward. Despite everything he had said, Ron stared at the baby with unguarded suspicion as if he expected the ceiling to cave in, or the cows in the neighbouring field to drop dead, or a sudden storm to blow in. Hermione however seemed not to notice, or as Draco suspected, pretended not to notice. Ginny of coarse, saw every little frightened glance Ron cast in Wyatt's direction and was planning to have a very serious talk to her brother the moment she got him alone. Harry, bless him, tried in vain to keep the conversation flowing but it wasn't long before he ran out of things to say.

It was then that Ron jumped to his feet and muttered about getting back to work, which prompted the Potters to make similar excuses leaving the Malfoys alone yet again. Draco settled Wyatt back into the bassinet next to his sister, briefly stroking his thumb over his son's right fist trying to dispel his anxiety. Turning back he saw Hermione chewing on her bottom lip, a small frown creasing her brow. With a sigh Draco sat down at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Hey, Granger, c'mere" he said, stretching out an arm.

Without hesitation Hermione crawled across the couch and into Draco's arms while he switched positions, swinging his legs on the sofa cushions and leaning against the armrest.

"You're not going to let what Weasley said worry you, are you?" he asked, pressing his lips against her forehead.

Hermione, whose head once again rested against Draco's shoulder, played with the bottons on his shirt but said nothing. _Yes thank you very much, Weasley _thought Draco savagely _sticking your big ugly foot in your big ugly mouth as usual. Now you've got her worrying about this when she should be resting. _

"What do you think it means?" asked Hermione softly.

"I don't know. What does a spiral normally signify?"

He felt Hermione shrug against his chest. Absently he combed a hand through her curls trying to answer his own question.

"You know, there isn't any evidence to suggest there was anything unusual about these 'marked children'. Most likely than not they were simply a scapegoat, someone to blame when the crops failed, or a prized cow died ... you know the usual rubbish" said Draco thoughtfully.

"You think so?" asked Hermione.

"Yes" said Draco, surprised that he was actually comforted by the thought. "Probably the strangest thing about these people were their birthmarks."

Draco felt Hermione relax against him, as he felt his own anxiety drain away. It was absurd to think that his son was cursed because of a silly birthmark. Wyatt and Mira were perfect in every way and Draco wouldn't allow anything to taint that, certainly not outdated pureblood superstitions. Besides he was Draco Malfoy, he questioned tradition, he decided his own fate, that was why he was curled up on this couch with his muggle-born wife. Glancing down he saw, with a touch of disappointment, that Hermione had dozed off. He grazed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, a smile stealing over his face.

"I love you Granger" he whispered, kissing her hair.

A few minutes later and he too fell asleep. It was a short nap however, as Mira announced in a very loud voice that she was hungry, scaring her parents so hard they rolled off the couch. As promised Mrs Weasley paid them a visit, but to Draco's relief she didn't stay very long, she unlike her children seemed to understand their desire for a little privacy. She did leave them puzzling over one thing though.

"Arthur wanted to come of coarse, but he was called into work at the last minute" she told them as she rocked Mira in her arms.

"I hope nothing's wrong?" said Draco.

"No, no - at least - I don't think so. The ministry's in quite a flap though - but surely you must of heard about it?" she asked. "I thought Harry would have mentioned it" she added at their blank expressions.

"Well it seems the ministry detected a powerful concentration of magic last night. Caused all sorts of problems; the Floo network was cut off for three hours; spells were backfiring left, right and centre; many people had trouble apparating; power cuts in some places; triggered quite a bit of wandless magic in the kids so I hear - but surely you must have felt _something_?" she asked them incredulously, as the couple took all this in with a mixture of surprise and alarm.

"To be honest, Molly, last night's a bit of a blur - except for seeing Hermione and the twins of coarse" said Draco wryly. "The roof could've blown off and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Have they found out what caused it?" asked Hermione.

"That's what's got them so worried, they can't pinpoint it's source - whatever_ it _is - they've got Aurors running all over the place trying to find the cause. And according to Harry, they haven't detected anything nearly this powerful since the night he defeated You-Know-Who."

Hermione gasped.

"Not that they think it has any connection to that!" Mrs Weasley added hastily. "No, no ... they're quite certain that whatever this was it was definitely _**good**_ magic. So that's why I'm not going to worry in the slightest - what harm can it do if it's good magic" she finished with a curt nod of her head.

"Well ... that's a relief I suppose" said Draco, dragging a hand through his moon bright hair. "I don't see why Potter didn't tell us any of this, didn't it occur to him that we might like to know about something this big?"

"He probably didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, you have got more important things to think about now" said Mrs Weasley wisely. "Well I better be going" she passed Mira into Draco's arms.

"Now you take care of yourself, Hermione dear, get as much rest as you can, and make sure your husband does his fair share of the work" she said, enveloping the young woman in a suffocating hug.

"I think I'm insulted, I've always been a very hardworking person" said Draco playfully "and if it does get too hard, we'll just get a bunch of house elves and - Ouch! Kidding, kidding - I'm all for SPEW - Ow! I mean S.P.E.W - really, Granger, is it necessary to pinch so hard? I'm holding a baby you knaaahhooOW!"

It didn't occur to either of them that the power flux may have something to do with the birth of their twins, which just happened to coincide with all these unusual events, or Wyatt's mark for that matter. Nothing this big could possibly be connected to them. Besides they had already established that Wyatt's birthmark didn't mean anything. Let the ministry worry about it, like Mrs Weasley said, they had more important things to think about now. Little could Draco or Hermione know that this power flux had everything to do with them, or that Wyatt's life was set to be far more complicated than either could ever imagine. After all ... they were not the only ones with plans for Wyatt's future.

------------------------------------

There were no more visitors that day, but there were several deliveries of flowers and soft toys from their various friends and relatives. Mrs Weasley's news was soon forgotten as Draco and Hermione got stuck into their new routine of feeding, burping and changing. It was now several hours later and the couple were yet to go to bed. Draco paced the length of the kitchen with a red faced Mira propped against his shoulder, while Hermione brewed them some tea. Mira had been crying on and off at random intervals for the past three hours. Her parents had tried everything to settle; they'd fed her, burped her, changed her, rocked her, sang to her, pleaded with her but she still refused to go to sleep and her parents were completely knackered.

"Maybe we're doing something wrong" said Hermione, her eyelids drooping heavily.

"Or maybe we just have a very stubborn baby" muttered Draco, rubbing his hand soothingly against his daughter's back.

Hermione set two cups of tea on the table and collapsed into a chair.

"Oh, my head is killing me" she groaned, rubbing her temples. "I should have done more research, if I had I'd know what to do. I'm a terrible mother!" she exclaimed dramatically.

Draco rolled his eyes, he'd heard that declaration five times tonight. He came up behind her and stroked her hair consolingly.

"Don't be daft woman, it's our first official day as parents, you can't expect to be perfect right away."

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against Draco's torso. "We must be doing something right" he continued "we haven't heard a peep out of Wyatt in ages."

This was true, Wyatt had been sleeping soundly in the bassinet since his last feeding and not even his sister's constant wailing had been enough to disturb him. His parents had no idea how vulnerable he was, left alone in the living room with nothing but the crackling fireplace for company.

But wait! Now there was a new sound, a faint squeak, too faint for either Wyatt or his parents to hear. It was coming from the three large arched windows that overlooked the Malfoy's small driveway - a feature of the house Hermione was particularly fond of. The squeaking was coming from the latch of the left window which was slowly turning of its own accord. Quite suddenly the window swung open, seconds later smoke began to creep over the window sill. There was something very odd about the smoke, it was a solid jet black - much darker than smoke really should be - and it didn't just drift into the room, it oozed and slithered with sinister purpose, creeping low over the carpet and slowly rising into a pillar of swirling smoke.

As the smoke slowly revolved on the spot it began to darken ominously, growing more solid with every second. It began to change shape until finally the figure of a man emerged. A man dressed in flowing black robes, the hood drawn over his head and eerily pale blue eyes searching the room. He was one of Galen's servants, and he was here to collect the child. With a satisfied smirk he moved toward the bassinet, his robes trailing silently across the carpet. For someone so low down in the ranks this was an unbelievable honour for the wizard, to be the first to gaze upon the face of the glorified future leader, to be entrusted with the task of presenting him to Galen. This was more than Arkan - for this was his name - could ever had hoped for, surely this was a sign that Galen intended to promote him soon. Arkan had been a level Blue for long enough, he was more than deserving to ascend to level Green.

Arkan stood over the bassinet, his strange blue eyes staring intently at the helpless infant before him. Wyatt seemed to sense the stranger's presence for he suddenly opened his eyes. For a moment they just stared at each other, then Arkan leaned forward with the intention of picking up the baby. It all happened so quickly, there was a flash of blue light from the baby's right fist then with a painful jolt that fried every nerve in Arkan's body he was sent hurling across the room and collided with the wall.

Draco, who had handed Mira over to her mother, was the first to respond to the loud crash and wails that came from the living room. He launched himself out of his chair, knocking it to the floor, and hurtled down the hallway skidding to a halt as he entered the living room.

"What the hell!" he croaked, as his eyes fell upon the bassinet and the blue force-field bubble that enveloped it, shimmering and humming with secret power.

If he had taken a moment to glance behind him, Draco would have seen the would-be-kidnapper sprawled on the floor, his face twisted in pain, his eyes wide with surprise. But Draco stood rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open, mesmerised by the spectacle before him.

"Draco? What is it, is Wyatt alright?" called Hermione from the hallway.

Finally snapping to his senses, Draco looked about the room but Arkan had already vanished, and turning back to his son, he saw, that so had the energy bubble. Wyatt was screaming at the top of his lungs and although stunned out of his whits, Draco's paternal instincts kicked in and he rushed forward scooping Wyatt into his arms just as Hermione entered the room. The baby settled almost at once, as if he knew he was safe.

"Is he okay? What was that crash?" asked Hermione anxiously.

"No idea, he's fine don't worry" assured Draco. He had no intention of revealing what he had just seen.

"Strange ... I wonder what that noise was? Are you sure he's alright?"

"Yes!" said Draco, grinning reluctantly. "Stop worrying so much, honestly woman."

"I can't help it" said Hermione, leaning her head wearily against Draco's shoulder.

Leaning over Draco dipped his head and kissed her briefly on the mouth. "You don't have to worry while I'm about Hermione, I wont let anything happen to you or the twins ... I promise" he told her seriously, holding her gaze.

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, the corners of her mouth curling slightly as she continued to gaze into Draco's smouldering grey eyes. Draco found himself staring at her mouth, her perfect full-lipped, pouty, bow-shaped mouth. He longed to kiss her again, to hold her in his arms (not an option at the moment as they each held a baby in their arms), to feel her body beneath his. But of coarse he couldn't just yet, Hermione needed time to heal, to recover her strength, and already the wait was driving him crazy. He'd have to settle for short and sweet kisses for now, anything more and he may just get carried away.

"Let's get these two to bed, eh?" he whispered.

"But Mira ..."

"She's already asleep" grinned Draco, glancing down happily.

"Thank Merlin for that!" breathed Hermione.

But could Draco really keep his promise? Their home had already been invaded by a dark wizard and he and Hermione were oblivious. Draco was ignoring all the signs telling him that Wyatt was not like other children, already he had convinced himself that the force-field he'd seen had really just been a trick of the light or a figment of his imagination. The incident would be forgotten, Draco would make sure of it, he refused to believe that there was anything unusual about his son. After all how there be? No child of Hermione's could possibly be cursed or strange ... or evil, he was sure of it.

---------------------------------------------

"HOW _DARE _YOU RETURN WITHOUT HIM!!!" roared Galen furiously, holding Arkan off the ground by his throat.

"Please sir ..." gasped Arkan desperately.

"I will not accept FAILURE!" hissed Galen, squeezing Arkan's throat even harder, so that he made a gargling sound. "All I asked was that you retrieve the baby, how is that so difficult?!"

"I tried!" coughed Arkan.

"Not hard enough, you incompetent _swine!_ I warned you, Arkan, and now you must be punished."

"No ... please" gurgled Arkan.

"I am going to burn your eyes out, Arkan, and I shall take my time doing it, then I will cut out your tongue, slowly, and when I am finished I shall spill your entrails and feed you to the hounds - it's been a while since they've had a good feed!"

"He - he had a - a shield!" exclaimed Arkan, with what felt like his last breath.

Galen stiffened in shock and forgot his rage. "A shield?"

"Yesss!"

Galen finally released his iron grip on Arkan's throat, he dropped to the floor like a stone coughing and spluttering as air rushed back into his lungs. Galen turned his back on him, thinking fast. It had never occurred to him that the boy might defend himself.

"A shield, you're quite sure?" he hissed urgently.

"Yes my lord ... it threw me across the room ... then the father came in, I was lucky to escape unnoticed" panted Arkan. "I don't understand, Galen, why would he protect himself against us?"

"You must have done something to frighten him" snapped Galen. Arkan looked ready to argue but thought better of it. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind about your punishment."

With a quick bow of his head Arkan fled from Galen's chambers in a cloud of smoke. Galen began to pace back and forth before the fireplace . He was troubled, more troubled than he was comfortable to admit. Things were not working out the way he had planned, and he had been planning this for a very long time. _It has to be something Arkan did, it has to be! Next time I'll send someone capable of completing the job._

"I will have the boy" he declared to the empty room "I will not rest until he is one of us."


	5. Chapter 5

1**Chapter Five**

**Authors' Notes:**_ Once again I would like to thank everyone who left reviews. Galen got pretty close to getting Wyatt in the last chapter, will he finally succeed in this one? Or do I plan to string you along for a bit longer? There's only one way to find out isn't there, I hope you like it._

**Disclaimer:**_ That's right Rowling, I've taken your characters hostage and I'm manipulating them for my own entertainment __**Muhahahahahaha**__ (chokes on a wad of saliva - starts to cough violently) ha ... ha ... ha, ah forget it!_

Bright and early the next morning Hermione awoke, not to the sound of crying, but the gonging of that ridiculous doorbell. She opened her eyes and groaned, _who in the sweet name of Merlin would be calling at this hour?_ Glancing over her shoulder she saw, with some annoyance, that Draco hadn't stirred. _Bloody typical!_ She made a move to sit up but found she couldn't. Draco's arm was curled around her waist, effectively pinning her against his chest. The doorbell rang out again. Hermione did a perfect Marge Simpson impression. _I'm coming, dammit!_ It took her a few more minutes to untangle herself before she could swing her legs to the floor.

"Eight forty-five!" she hissed incredulously, catching sight of the alarm clock. The doorbell gonged insistently. "_Alright! _I'm coming!"

Hermione got wearily to her feet and pulled on a white silk dressing gown. She glowered at Draco who was still fast asleep. The doorbell went again. _That bloody bell!_

"Oh, 'it's on my to-do-list'" she quoted Draco's words grumpily, heading out of the room. "Ooh well that's just bloody marvellous!"

As she started down the stairs the doorbell was pressed again - Hermione could have screamed at that moment.

"Alright, _alright_ I'm coming! Give me a bloody minute to get down the bloody stairs, you arsehole!"

Hermione Granger Malfoy, was _NOT_ a morning person.

"Wait til I get this door open, I am going to give you a piece of my mind! What kind of dunderheaded prat visits at this time anyway?!"

Hermione unbolted the lock and threw open the door, her eyes flashing furiously as she prepared to confront the visitor. The person in the doorway lunged forward so fast, that for a moment Hermione feared she was going to be strangled, but then she found herself in a bone crushing hug that knocked all the air out of her lungs.

"Mum! Dad!" she croaked, colouring slightly for her abusive language.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Alison Granger "We never should have gone to Sweden, I knew this would happen, I just knew it - I had this feeling!"

"Let the girl breathe, Luv" said Richard Granger behind them.

"You shut up, my baby's just been through an ordeal. Giving birth for the first time without her mother beside her - you must have been so scared - my poor darling!" she squeezed Hermione even harder. _Didn't need that rib anyway_, thought Hermione wincing.

"If I recall correctly, you asked your own mother to leave halfway through _your_ labour" retorted Richard.

"That's different, my mother started hyperventilating!"

As the need for oxygen was becoming quite urgent, Hermione peered over her mother's shoulder and mouthed 'help me' to her father. Richard came to her rescue immediately.

"Are you going to make me stand here all day, before I can greet my own daughter?" he demanded of his wife.

Reluctantly Alison released her daughter from her vice-like hug, allowing Hermione to inhale a very deep breath.

"Hi princess" said Richard, stepping past his wife and drawing Hermione into a much gentler hug. "Sorry about your mum, she's been going bonkers since your phone call."

"That's alright. How did you get back so soon?" asked Hermione.

"We were able to trade flights with this lovely elderly couple" explained Alison.

"What she actually means is that she harassed a couple of pensioners until they gave into her demands" added Richard cheekily.

"What?!" croaked Hermione.

"I didn't harass them, Richard ... I simply appealed to their better judgement" said Alison defensively.

"They threatened to call security" Richard reminded with a grin.

"I know" grumbled Alison "miserable old bag!"

"Mother!" cried a scandalised Hermione, while Richard laughed.

"It's ridiculous, anyone would think I had pulled a gun on them or something!" she continued angrily. "But never mind that now, where are my grandchildren? I can't wait to see them!"

"Er ... asleep in the nursery" Alison sprang up the stairs in an instant, behind her Hermione and Richard rolled their eyes and followed her.

Draco had redecorated the nursery yesterday (magically of coarse) when he had found a spare moment. One half of the room was painted a pale pink, the other a sky blue. Around the top of the walls ran a border, on Mira's side of the room unicorns thrashed their heads and pawed the ground, on Wyatt's side Dragons belched orange flames and flapped their wings. The ceiling (Draco's pride and joy) had been enchanted to look like the night sky, and thousands of minute stars twinkled and winked at the sleeping twins. In the middle of the room stood two identical cribs, birch wood coloured white, like the rest of the furniture. Draco had taken his wand and carved the twins' names into the footboard of each crib, in his tall, elegant handwriting. The twins had a matching set of wardrobes either side of the room, and shelves crammed full of soft toys, and on the wall next to the door was a changing table and a granny's rocking chair - where Hermione could sit and nurse the twins.

Alison Granger marched into the nursery ignoring all this splendour, and attention to detail - Draco's heart and soul poured into one room - with eyes only for the twins who occupied it.

"Oh they're beautiful" she exclaimed rapturously, alternating gazes between the two cribs so it looked like she was watching a game of tennis played by a pair of house elves.

"Oooooh! Fancy" said Richard, appraising the room.

"It's wonderful isn't it" beamed Hermione "Draco did all by himself, he's so sweet."

"Oh Richard come look, aren't they gorgeous!"

Richard leaned over the side of Wyatt's crib, a slow smile spreading over his face. "Finally, I have a boy in the family ... but alas, who will carry the Granger name?"

"There's still your sister Miranda" replied his wife.

"Alison!" he cried indignantly.

"The woman is fifty-three and overweight, the odds of her getting a proposal anytime soon are bleak to say the least" retorted Alison dryly.

"My sister is _not_ fat!" said Richard, outraged. Alison gave a derisive snort, and Hermione tried unsuccessfully to cover up a giggle.

Just then Draco, still half asleep, wandered into the room scratching his head. He was quite a sight to behold: with his white blond hair sticking up in places and flopping into his eyes, and his lean, muscled body perfectly defined by what he was wearing, a grey skin-tight vest and a pair of white longjohns.

"Hermione, what's all the ..." he broke off, freezing in mid-stride, as he caught sight of the Grangers staring back at him, looking somewhat startled.

In Draco's head a distinctly feminine voice screamed in horror. _I'm wearing __**nothing**__ but my __**underwear **__in front of the __**Grangers**_, were the thoughts that followed his internal scream. Not forgetting his manners of coarse, Draco managed something very close to a greeting.

"Richard, Alison ... you're here" he said, taking a tentative step backwards. _Are you out of your flipping mind?! _Admonished Draco's inner Slytherin, _this is no time to dilly-dally, run you fool, RUN!!!_ The Grangers didn't respond, but their eyes - acting of their own accord it seemed - did the inevitable, and slowly followed Draco's body in a downward direction to settle on his long, muscled legs. At that moment the same incredulous thought (_Longjohns?_) crossed both their minds. If Draco could have wished for anything right then, it would have been to dissolve into thin air. _The door's not that far away, you can make it. Hurry, before the humiliation kills you!_

"Um ... well I ... er ... have to ... um ..." he muttered incoherently, backing up slowly. Not paying attention to where he was going, Draco backed into the door jam. With what could have been a whimper he turned around and fled. There was a moment of silence among the Grangers, as they all stood staring at the space Draco had vacated.

"Hmm ... Draco has nice legs" said Alison, with the air of a person commenting on the weather.

"Mum!" spluttered Hermione.

"Alison!" cried Richard at the same time.

"I'm just making an observation" she defended.

"Aren't you a little old to be making observations?" asked Richard incensed.

"I beg your pardon? Old am I?"

"Did I say old? I meant ... _mature_" he replied sheepishly, barely suppressing his smile.

---------------------------------------------

A short while later, Draco sidled into the sitting room where Hermione, the twins and her parents had reassembled. Thankfully this time he was fully clothed.

"Hello again" he said with a hesitant smile.

Acting as if the little incident earlier had never occurred, the Grangers greeted him with warm smiles and words of congratulations, Richard even got off the sofa to shake his hand and pat him on the back, Alison probably would have hugged him, had she not been holding Mira. Any embarrassment Draco may have felt immediately evaporated as he perched himself on the armrest of Hermione's chair. Draco liked the Grangers, he really did, especially Richard - Richard was funny. Mrs Granger was a petite, pretty woman with cropped chestnut curls and large light blue eyes. Mr Granger was tall - taller than Draco - and long-limbed, with dark brown hair streaked with silver at the sides, he had a long, heart-shaped face and chocolate brown eyes. Hermione may have her mother's hair, but surprisingly she actually looked more like her father, she was even a few inches taller than her mother.

"I like how you fixed up the nursery, Draco" praised Richard.

"Oh, thank you" said Draco awkwardly.

"The twins are gorgeous, pet" said Alison beaming.

"Yes, dear, we know - you've only said so about fifteen times - you also mentioned that they were beautiful, cute, adorable, and down right precious" teased Richard.

"Is it a crime to praise my own grandchildren?" asked Alison.

"It is when you start sounding like a broken record" he retorted. "Ow!" he added as Alison elbowed him in the ribs.

"You're my witness, Draco, the woman just assaulted me. _I_ am a battered husband! If the police ever come to the door saying I've been beaten to death with a rolling pin, you remember who to point the finger at" joked Richard, dodging the blow Alison aimed at his chest.

This was precisely the reason Draco liked the Grangers, they were fun to be around. Hermione who was more than used to this sort of banter simply rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to make some coffee, anyone want a cup?" she asked, standing up. The others nodded that they did.

"Here, I'll help you" said Alison, getting up also and reluctantly lowering Mira into the bassinet.

Richard watched his wife and daughter leave the room then turned to Draco expectantly.

"Right my boy, what's been going on in the quidditch world? I haven't had a scrap of news all month!"

Mr Granger, already a huge soccer fan, had been drawn into the wizard sport after Harry had taken him to a Chudney Canons' match a few years previously. Draco was happy to give Richard all the latest updates.

------------------------------------------

"So ... how is Draco dealing with fatherhood?" asked Alison. "He seems more relaxed since I last saw him."

"He's doing wonderful, certainly not doubting himself anymore" replied Hermione happily.

"And how is he handling the dirty work?"

"Really well actually, hasn't even complained" answered Hermione.

"I wish I could say the same about your father, but frankly Hermione, the man practically fainted the first time he changed you" said Alison, shaking her head.

"Really? Was he that bad?" giggled Hermione.

"Worse, and every time after that he always came up with a convenient excuse to get out of it."

As mother and daughter continued their idle chat, they did not notice a certain something scuttle into the room. It paused a moment, looking around the kitchen. Laughter drew it's attention to two women leaning against the counter top, waiting for a kettle to boil. It began to move towards them. The women still hadn't noticed its' presence.

"Hello pretty ladies" said a low grainy voice.

Hermione and Alison let out blood-curdling screams. Terrified, Draco and Richard reacted immediately and came running to the rescue, skidding to halt on the kitchen tiles. But they were confused when they found two frightened women, huddled against the counter top, but no obvious threat.

"What is it?" demanded Draco.

"What's wrong?" asked Richard.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHH!" replied Hermione, pointing at their feet.

Looking down the men found a small teddy bear staring back at them, looking somewhat bemused. It was the teddy bear Ginny had brought round yesterday. Richard howled in horror and leapt back.

"Bu - whaa - gar - that's it?" spluttered Draco. "You scared the hell out of me - _for this!!!_ I thought - _Gods! _- it's just a teddy!"

"All I said was hello" said the bear, holding its' arms up innocently. Hermione whimpered.

"Urgh it talked! It's alive!" exclaimed Richard.

"Get a grip would you, it's just an enchantment" said Draco.

"Oh, just an enchantment" said Richard sarcastically "I'll remember that, when it takes a carving knife and murders us all!"

"What?" said Draco, looking at Mr Granger as if he had lost his mind.

"Carving knife?" said the bear, with equal confusion.

"I take it he's never heard of Chuckie then, has he?" said Richard, addressing Hermione.

"You know I can't watch that movie, it gives me nightmares" she answered.

"What movie? Who the hell is this 'Chuckie' everyone keeps talking about?"

"Yes, who is Chuckie?" asked the bear, scratching his fuzzy head. "Am I Chuckie? I don't have a name yet - I assume you are going to name me ... aren't you?"

"Get rid of it! It's freaking me out, Draco" moaned Hermione.

"Oh for Merlin's sakes!" exclaimed Draco irritably. He stooped and picked the bear up by the middle and stalked over to the back door, which he unbolted and threw open.

"I'm sorry bear, it's nothing personal" he told it seriously. The bear stared at him blankly. "Alright, it is personal - you creep the girl out - I'm sorry, you've got to go."

"But I don't want toaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" it finished in a scream, as Draco chucked it outside.

"Happy?" he asked, closing the door.

"Very" answered Hermione.

"I don't know, afraid of a teddy bear" muttered Draco, leaving the room with Richard following.

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Much later that afternoon found Draco in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. The Grangers had only left a short while ago, and only because Hermione had started to doze off in the middle of their conversation. Draco had carried her up to their bedroom after that. Thankfully the twins had stayed sleeping, giving Hermione a chance to rest. Draco was absorbed in an article about the strange goings on two nights ago. It went into greater detail about all the weird things that had happened. There was one story of a wizard who had terribly splinched himself while trying to apparate home, the upper half of his body had arrived home much to his wife's utter horror, whilst his legs had somehow ended up in Liverpool (freaking out a number of Muggles unfortunate enough to witness their sudden appearance), the man was now in St. Mungo's being treated for shock. Just the thought of it made Draco wince. There was another story about a witch who had got stuck up a chimney for two hours after trying to use the Floo system. Draco found this one rather amusing. There were a few more examples that were just as bizarre.

The Ministry was still at a loss to explain just _what _had happened, nothing like this - certainly not to this degree of power - had ever happened before. There were all sorts of theories floating about but none that were very plausible. They still hadn't located the source of the power surge, which the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, found exceedingly frustrating. All they knew was that it had occurred somewhere in England (hardly helpful), and that it had been an enormous burst of White magic, which was both reassuring and baffling. Presently Draco's attention was diverted from the paper by a noise across the room. Looking up he saw something orange and fluffy stepping through a flap in the kitchen door.

"Crookshanks! Where have you been you daft furball?" was Draco's way of greeting Hermione's old cat. "Have you been romancing that tabby from the Mackenzie farm again?"

Crookshanks sauntered into the kitchen, bottlebrush tail held erect. He had indeed been romancing the feisty little tabby called Tibbles, who lived on the nearby farm, but that wasn't the reason for his prolonged absence. He had actually been on his way home two nights ago, but had been frightened away by the peculiar amount of magic sizzling in the air. He hadn't dared return until now, but he had made good use of his time away, Tibbles wasn't the only female cat the Mackenzies owned. With a wry grin Draco slid out of his seat and went to the cupboard where he retrieved a sachet of cat food.

"Well, while you were off making conquests, there have been a few changes around here" Draco told Crookshanks, setting his bowl on the floor.

With a grateful purr Crookshanks lowered his squashed face to the bowl and started to wolf down his dinner. Shaking his head in amusement Draco returned to his seat. He had only just picked up his paper when a sudden wail filled the house. Startled, Crookshank's head shot up and his hackles stood on end. Then as if coming to some realisation he stared at Draco, searching for confirmation.

"That's right furball" smirked Draco "she's gone and had them, they're finally here."

Abandoning his dinner, Crookshanks shot out of the room as fast as his bandy legs could carry him. Draco was quick to follow him. The twins had been returned to the nursery earlier and Hermione was already attending to Mira when the ginger hairball flew into the room. He paused at the threshold and glanced over at his mistress.

"Hello Crookshanks" she greeted happily. "Are you here to see the babies?"

With the tip of his bottlebrush tail flicking from side to side the cat answered with a deep throated miaow and trotted towards Wyatt's crib. Being a very wise and somewhat unusual cat, Crookshanks knew right away that there was something different about this particular baby. He could sense a powerful magic in this child, something he had never felt in a human before. The cat sat himself down and peered up at the baby through the white bars. He miaowed loudly and as if in response Wyatt gurgled and waved a curled fist through the air. Crookshanks moved faster than he had in years, suddenly leaping up and into Wyatt's crib. Hermione felt her heart jump into her mouth.

"No Crookshanks!" she cried fearfully.

Ignoring her the feline bent his head over Wyatt, locking his eyes on the baby's face who was staring back with intense dove-grey orbs. After a moment Crookshanks seemed to decide that there was nothing sinister about the infant - for a deep rumbling purr emitted from his small chest - though the child was indeed very special.

"Oy!" yelled Draco, marching into the nursery. He reached into the crib and yanked the cat off his son with perhaps a little more force than was necessary. "I'm glad you're not jealous or anything but I wont have you accidentally smothering my son thank you very much ... off you go - Shoo!" he added dropping the cat on the floor.

Affronted, Crookshanks flicked his bushy tail high above his head and stuck his chin into the air in a perfect imitation of Hermione before stalking out of the room.

"We'll have to keep an eye on him" Draco muttered.

Hermione settled herself in the rocking chair to nurse Mira, while Draco leaned over Wyatt's crib and laid his palm on the baby's tummy.

"Hello little man, did you have a good nap?" he asked Wyatt, in an unusually gentle tone that brought a smile to Hermione's face.

"Come to Daddy" he scooped Wyatt into his arms and kissed him on the forehead.

"And did Mummy sleep well?" Draco asked Hermione, walking towards her.

"Yes, but you should have waken me - I feel really guilty, falling asleep on my parents like that."

"You've got no reason to feel guilty, if you recall we only managed to get a few hours sleep last night. I think your parents understood" said Draco, crouching next to her.

"But it's not as if I've never gone without sleep before. I've suffered from insomnia loads of times and I've never fallen asleep like that, not even when we were doing our N.E.W.T.S.!"

"Gods, you were scary those months running up to our exams, cranky and on edge twenty-four-seven. Remember when you clobbered Weasley over the head with your Ancient ruins' textbook?"

"It was his own fault! - serves him right for spilling butterbeer all over my revision notes - he's lucky I didn't strangle him" said Hermione, blushing slightly.

"But this is different from your insomnia, Granger. You weren't recovering from giving birth to twins and you weren't having your resources drained by breast feeding two infants" said Draco, gazing at her fondly.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself" he added, suddenly serious. "I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"I promise" said Hermione, giving him a radiant smile as he stroked her thigh.

"I mean it Granger. I'm only going to be with you like this for three months - I wish it could be more - it should be more, it's not fair to leave you to do all this alone."

"I'll be fine, besides I wont be alone. Mum said she'll help out if I need her, and there's Mrs Weasley, and Ginny" she reassured him, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes.

"But your mum works, and Molly's always babysitting her own lot, and the She-Weasel will have her own sprog by then" Draco pointed out, feeling his chest constrict with sudden anxiety. Why hadn't he thought about this beforehand? He would be off at work and she would be here _**alone**_, taking care of twins all by herself - how could she possibly cope? _Maybe I should hire a nanny, that would help ... wouldn't it?_

"Draco, women have been caring for their children alone for centuries - I think I can manage" she told him confidently.

"Besides ..." she added with a cocky grin "I've always been a fast learner, I should be an expert with babies by the time you go back to work."

Draco grinned up at her, feeling his anxiety lessen slightly by her confidence in herself. Even so, he would make sure she kept her promise, and that he helped out as much as possible when his three months of freedom were up.

-------------------------------------------

Much later that night, not long after Draco and Hermione had trudged off to bed, found baby Wyatt staring up at his mobile which was slowly revolving above his head and playing a soothing lullaby. Like the border on his half of the room, Wyatt's mobile had little dragons suspended from it: which glowed faintly in the dark, flapping their wings, and snapping at the tiny yellow stars that dangled above their heads. There was nothing especially odd about this, except for the fact that no-one had actually switched the mobile on. His father had shown him how it worked earlier that day, but he'd forgotten to do it on his way to bed.

There was a lovely window in the nursery, set in the middle of the back wall, overlooking the rolling fields and the Mackenzie farm. It was tall and elegant and had a stained glass pattern set around the sides.It was precisely the reason why Hermione had chosen to make this room the nursery. But at the moment the glorious view outside was obscured by an ominous black mist. The window began to slide up and open and the mist or rather the smoke started to pour into the room. Like the night before it rose up like a chimney, and out of it emerged not one figure but two.

The two wizards were dressed in matching black robes, one was tall and gaunt with a straggly black goatee and a symbol tattooed on his forehead, the other was slim and lightly muscled with a pointed, grim face, both had the same strange acid-green eyes. The taller man waved his arm in an arc, casting a silencing charm on the room.

"Twins?" said the shorter wizard. "Galen forgot to mention the boy had a twin. How do we tell which one is him?"

"I would assume he would be the one on the blue side of the room" drawled the other wizard.

"Oh!" scowled the short wizard. "Galen was a fool to send Arkan after the child - the arrogant pup - it's no wonder he's still a level blue!"

"Hold your tongue, Olcan, I'd hate to have to report your insolence to our master."

"You wouldn't dare!" hissed Olcan. "You wouldn't dare betray one of your own rank!"

"I would if it meant my promotion" replied his companion with a smirk.

"Galen wont be master for much longer, Armen, not now the boy has come at last - he shall be a great leader - greater than Galen ever -"

"Silence!" hissed Armen, anger lacing his voice. "These are the words of a traitor, Olcan. I wonder how lord Galen would react if he knew how you felt?"

Olcan glared defiantly at Armen, his acid-green eyes glinting with malice.

"You are not afraid of Galen?" asked Armen, to which Olcan snorted contemptuously. "Your arrogance astounds me, have you forgotten just _who_ trained Galen to be leader?"

A delighted grin spread over Armen's face as Olcan shuddered. Suddenly realising they were wasting time, he shoved past his companion and glided towards Wyatt's crib. Olcan, glaring daggers at the other wizard, followed and came round the other side. Baby Wyatt, still awake and apparently content, stared up at the now still mobile and gurgled. Armen leaned forward but suddenly froze, as Wyatt's minuscule body began to glow with a bright blue light, sparkling like a sapphire caught in the sun. At the same time there was an odd sound like the chiming of a thousand tiny bells, and just like that Wyatt disappeared, dissolving into thin air.

Olcan and Armen stared at the empty crib in utter shock, then a second flash of blue drew their attention to Mira's crib where Wyatt had just reappeared. Before they could even gasp in amazement Wyatt's force-field bloomed out of his chest forming a dome, sheltering him and his sister from harm.

"Impossible!" spluttered Olcan. "A child that young can't disapparate!"

"Apparently he can" countered Armen. "That is not a form of apparation I am familiar with ... the child is remarkable indeed."

Olcan stepped forward and loomed over the twins, unperturbed Wyatt seemed to stare back at the green-eyed wizard in defiance.

"What are you doing?" asked Armen.

"What does it look like? I'm going to break the shield, I have no intentions of returning empty handed."

Armen wasn't sure it would be that simple, most shield charms were invisible - unlike this pulsating blue energy bubble - and he'd never heard of a child conjuring one before, never mind a newborn. He didn't think the ordinary counter curses would be enough to break it, but he didn't tell Olcan this. _Let the fool try, it's his own fault if something happens_. He took a step back as Olcan began to mutter a spell under his breath. Nothing happened. He tried another one. Again nothing. Feeling his patience wear thin, Olcan tried a more powerful curse, which would surely harm the baby should it break through. This time something did happen, but it wasn't to Olcan's liking. Wyatt's shield suddenly hissed like a firework and something like a small bolt of electricity struck Olcan in the eye. He howled in agony and fell to the floor, airing profanities. Armen laughed as the other wizard rolled about on the floor, clutching his blistered and bleeding eye.

"That little bastard!" he hissed furiously.

"Now Olcan, is that anyway to speak of our future leader?" chuckled Armen.

"Stop laughing at me you ..." Olcan broke off as the nursery door creaked open.

A cat with orange matted fur, and a face that looked like he'd run headlong into a brick wall, poked his head inside. Seeing the intruders Crookshanks bristled and hissed viciously.

"I think we had best leave" advised Armen.

"Are you insane?" snarled Olcan, struggling to his feet.

"We have failed in our task, we should return to lord Galen and report our findings."

"But he'll be furious! He'll -"

"Our time is up, it shall be dawn soon," at this Olcan glanced fearfully out the window "we should go now, and accept any punishment our lord sees fit to deliver. Quickly, before the animal wakes the parents."

"Lets just kill it!" snarled Olcan, pointing his hand at the growling feline. "Arrgh!" he cried as a second bolt struck him in the arm.

Smirking in amusement Armen came up behind him and grabbed him by his other arm, finishing his silencing charm, he and Olcan disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Crookshanks stalked into the room, his tail raised like a very bushy flag, he sprang into Wyatt's abandoned crib and settled himself at the foot of it. He miaowed at Wyatt, whose shield had shrank into his chest. There was yet another flash of light and the baby materialised in his own crib, as if nothing had happened. Crookshanks stayed with the twins the rest of the night, keeping a sharp-eyed vigil on the new additions to his family.

**----------------------------------------------**

**Author's Notes: **_ Incase you're wondering the 'Chuckie' I referred to isn't the wimpy red-haired kid from the Rugrats, but the homicidal red-haired doll from the horror movie whose name I can't remember (it's something like 'Child's Play' I think). I've never seen the movie myself - a toy coming to life and slashing people to death isn't my idea of entertainment - so I'm only vaguely aware of the plot line. I do hope you liked this chapter, please leave a review - it does wonders for my ego!_

_P.S. Wyatt's powers are inspired by the television series __**'Charmed'**__ as I'm not nearly talented enough to make up my own super cool powers._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chaper six**

**Discliamer: **_These characters do not belong to me ... unfortunately_

Galen took Armen and Olcan's failure remarkably well; he didn't even raise his voice - just stared intently into his fireplace. However this was more frightening than it was reassuring, so frightening in fact that Olcan had begun to tremble - all his previous bravado evaporated in the presence of the silver-masked wizard. Galen was liable to explode any second; he wasn't what you could call an understanding man. Armen, unlike his companion, stood tall and proud, ready for any punishment his master was likely to hand out. He was perhaps one of the most loyal of Galen's servants, as was proof by the mark tattooed on his forehead; few could boast the privilege of bearing the _Fas Nota_.

"My lord," said Armen in a confident voice "are you aware the boy has a twin? A sister I believe."

"Indeed?" replied Galen, his attention still fixed on the fireplace. "I did not know ... and you say he did that to your eye, Olcan ... impressive" he said, glancing briefly over his broad shoulder. "Very well, you may leave now."

Armen and Olcan frowned at each other in confusion. Dismissed without a punishment? This was unheard of.

"Sir?" said Armen hesitantly.

"You heard me, get out!" snapped Galen.

Bewildered, Olcan and Armen bowed deeply and left the cavernous chamber. With a sigh, Galen conjured a mahogany, throne-like chair and collapsed into it. His bright, furious eyes glared into the roaring fireplace, as if the flames themselves were to blame for all his problems. Randall - who had been perched uncomfortably on a spindly stool in a corner - now crept out of the shadows and into the meek firelight.

"My lord?" he said timidly. "Should I summon a level yellow wizard, Ezra perhaps? Or Dillic?"

"No" said Galen, sounding almost petulant.

"Red then?" suggested Randall.

"It doesn't matter what rank they are, the results will be the same" snapped Galen.

"I'm sure we can find a spell or potion that will break through the infant's shield, I could check the library for you sir ..."

"No Randall! It wont work, the boy is obviously too powerful for that" sighed Galen, slumping deeper into his chair.

"P-perhaps ... you s-should collect the boy, my lord ... when he senses your power and authority, surely he would understand our intentions?"

"Or sensing an even greater threat he could attack and possibly kill me, is that what you want Randall?" retorted Galen angrily. "The boy may be resourceful, but he's not going to take one look at me and automatically understand my plans for him - he is still an infant after all!"

"Then what, sir? We're not giving up are we?" asked Randall.

"No Randall we're not giving up!" hissed Galen furiously. "This is a test, that's all - a test of faith - one I intend to pass. We just need to find another way around the boy's shield, but to do that we need some ... help."

"Help, Lord Galen? From who?" asked Randall, confused.

Galen straightened in his chair and fixed his fiery gaze on the wizened seer, who for some reason was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.

"The Trio."

Randall didn't even try to stifle his gasp of horror. "No, my lord, not the Trio!" he cried fearfully.

"Afraid are we?" asked Galen.

"Terrified sir!" exclaimed Randall, surprised by his own honesty "but the Trio cannot be trusted ... surely you must see that, they're mad sir ... quite insane ... their motives are -"

"I've got no choice!" yelled Galen, looking uneasy. "I understand the risks, Randall, but I can't see any way around it ... I always just assumed that the boy ... it never occurred to me that he would, resist" he suddenly snarled like an angry dog and dropped his masked face into his hands.

"If anyone can give us the boy, it's the Trio" said Galen a few moments later, raising his eyes to the fireplace once more. "No-one knows more about the Dark Arts than they do. The Trio will have a way to get through the child's defences - I'm sure of it."

* * *

It was mid-morning and Hermione was halfway through a much needed cup of coffee, she was in her library looking over a book Narcissa had sent over for the wiccaning. The library was modest in size, a little larger than Draco's study, but in Hermione's mind it was perfect and she had come to love it just as much as Hogwarts' library. There were bookshelves set into every wall, a large ornate fireplace against one with two leather armchairs positioned before it, a long rosewood table - where Hermione was seated at present - and a tall window where early spring sunlight streamed into the room. Hermione flicked through the pages of the book, absently humming a made up tune. The book was a list of baby names, or more precisely a list of Wiccan names, and Hermione was having a bit of bother trying to decide which ones to pick. The problem was there was just so many to choose from - some of the names were down right bizarre or near impossible to pronounce, but the majority of them were unique and beautiful and exotic sounding - leaving Hermione rather spoiled for choice.

A sudden roar from the fireplace made the young witch jump and she gave a small shriek as a head suddenly materialised in the flames.

"So sorry, did I frighten you?" said the head of Remus Lupin sheepishly.

"Remus!" exclaimed Hermione, clutching her chest. "Goodness ... no matter how many times I see a floo communication, it still freaks me out. Is everything alright?"

"Yes everything's fine, I just thought I'd check in and see how you're doing?" said Lupin cheerfully.

"We're doing wonderful, thank you, better than wonderful actually" replied Hermione a bright smile stealing over her face.

"Taking to parenthood like a duck to water - I should've known! Did you get the gifts we sent?"

"Yes, thank you so much! The clothes are beautiful" answered Hermione.

"Good, Tonks will be happy to hear that."

"Remus, shouldn't you be at work?" asked Hermione with a small frown.

After the war Remus Lupin had been reinstated as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts (much to the chagrin of a certain potions master) a post which was no longer cursed now that Voldemort was dead. He and his wife Tonks now lived in Hogsmeade village with their young family.

"Freak blizzard I'm afraid, all classes have been cancelled. So I'm spending the day with the kids."

"And Tonks?"

"She's at work of course, the lucky - _stop fighting back there!_" he suddenly yelled over his shoulder making Hermione start. "Look, the kids are going barmy cooped up like this, you don't mind if we drop by for a visit, do you? I'm dying to meet the twins!"

Hermione giggled, the man looked really desperate for some adult company, she couldn't blame him, his and Tonks' children were a rather rowdy bunch - no doubt it had something to do with the werewolf blood running through their veins.

"Of course I don't mind, come on through" she answered cheerfully, closing her book.

"Oh thank Merlin!" sighed Lupin gratefully. "Wont be a mo" with that his head disappeared. Moments later emerald green flames rose into the air and Professor Lupin stepped out of the fireplace with three children in toe.

"Herme-My-O-nee!" squealed three young voices, as the little Lupins broke free of their father to embrace the young witch.

"Wait! You have to - Oh great, now Hermione's all sooty!" chided Remus.

Fatherhood had done wonders for Remus Lupin; it had taken years off his kind handsome face, so that he no longer looked tired and ill but bright and healthy. And now that he had a decent job his robes were no longer patched and tattered.

"That's alright, Remus, I don't min -"

"Look! I lost my first tooth!" said Lupin's daughter, pointing to a large gap between her teeth.

"Oh that's -"

"Big deal, I've lost loads of teeth!" snorted Lupin's eldest son.

"Have you been on a diet, Herme-My-O-nee?" asked Lupin's other son.

"Diet? Why would I -"

"You're not fat anymore."

"That's cause she's had a baby you idiot!"

"What have I told you about your cheek young man" admonished Remus.

"I'm not a idiot!" wailed the youngest Lupin.

"Oh, here we go - you're such a cry baby Rommy!"

"That's enough, Teddy!" scolded Remus.

"I am not!"

"Are to!" said Teddy.

"Am not!!!"

"At least Rommy's not grouchy like you."

"Grouchy! I'm not grouchy!"

"Oh yes you are!"

Lupin sighed wearily and rolled his eyes as his children continued to argue. Teddy, the eldest child and named after his late grandfather, was eight years old and one of the few children born during the war. He was a tall slender boy, with a long solemn face and light brown eyes like Remus, but what made him unusual was his hair, which was a bright periwinkle blue - a trait inherited from his mother's side of the family. His sister, Echo, was five and was a bright feisty child. She had long lilac hair, a heart-shaped face and dark twinkling eyes. Romulus, or 'Rommy' as he was nicknamed, was four years old and extremely clumsy. His hair was emerald green and spiky, he too had a heart shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and his father's chin.

"Wouldn't you like to see the twins?" asked Hermione, interrupting the dispute.

"Yay!"

"They're upstairs with Draco, just remember to keep your voices -" but the Lupin youngsters weren't listening and had already scrambled towards the door.

"Wait, come back here! Listen to Hermione!" Remus called after them. "Stop laughing, it's not funny" he said to Hermione who had started giggling again.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying a failing to contain her mirth "it's just I'm beginning to see why you and Tonks go through so many nannies. What's the count so far this year?"

"Fifteen!" complained Lupin, his shoulders sagging. Hermione giggled even harder. "And now Molly's refusing to take them!"

"Why's that?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well ... last time they were there, they ... err ... somehow ... um ... set fire to the sofa" explained Remus sheepishly, to which Hermione laughed uproariously.

Draco had just finished changing Mira and was idly tickling her toes when the nursery door suddenly burst open and three small persons launched themselves into the room with boisterous cries of "DRACO!" before tackling him round the waist, nearly knocking him to the floor. He grunted as someone's skull connected painfully with his groin.

"Hi kids!" he wheezed.

"You alright, Draco, your voice sounds funny?" asked Echo.

_So would yours if you'd just been hit in the crotch! _ranted his inner Slytherin furiously. "Fine! I'm fine" he said instead. "Did my cousin bring you?" he asked hopefully.

"We came with Daddy" answered Echo.

"Oh. Shouldn't he be work-"

"Can we see the babies?" interrupted Romulus, who was hopping up and down trying to catch a peek of Mira laid out on the changing table.

"Certainly" said Draco, his chest swelling with pride.

He lifted his daughter into his arms and crouched before the Lupin siblings so they could see her better. "This is Mira" he told them softly, kissing the baby's head.

"Oh, she's a lovely baby" Echo sighed, leaning over Mira.

"Look, Mira's got weird hair like us!" observed Teddy cheerfully. It took all of Draco's self-control not to sputter in outrage.

"She's very little" said Romulus. "Was I this little when I was a baby?" he asked his brother.

"No, you were big and fat ... and ugly" said Teddy smirking.

Romulus' face scrunched up in anger. "I wasn't ugly! You're lying!" he wailed.

"Me? I never lie! You were probably the ugliest baby ever -"

"Alright, that's enough," interceded Draco "you can fight when you get back home, but right now you can just be quiet."

"Humph!" said Romulus and Teddy, glaring at each other.

"So, how did that nanny work out? The one with the funny glasses?" asked Draco, deliberately changing the subject.

"Oh, _Her_" said Teddy, rolling his eyes. "She's gone. I'm glad, I didn't like her ... and you know, she broke my toy broomstick, the one I got for Christmas!"

"And she fell down the stairs" said Romulus matter-of-factly.

"What?" said Draco.

"That's why she left" explained Echo.

"Daddy said she fac-fract - broke her arm" added Romulus.

"How did she fall down the stairs?" asked Draco. Echo and Romulus looked up at their brother.

"It was her own fault!" he snapped rather defensively. "She should've watched where she was going. I'd just gone to the toilet, I wasn't going to be that long, how was I to know that if I left it lying there -?"

"Left what lying where? ... oh Teddy, you didn't leave your broomstick lying on the stairs, did you?" tutted Draco, trying desperately to cover up his amusement.

"It's not like I planned it! And it was just a broken arm - my broomstick suffered the most, she snapped it in two with her huge -!" he broke off at the loud gurgle which sounded behind them.

"That will be Wyatt awake then" grinned Draco.

Teddy turned and moved toward Wyatt's crib. Gripping the white bars with his long fingered hands he gazed at the baby boy who was just beginning to stir. Romulus and Echo followed him. Draco was too busy cooing over Mira to notice the almost hypnotised look on Teddy's face.

"Can I hold him?" asked Teddy.

"You can hold Mira if you like?"

"No! I want to hold him" said Teddy.

Draco raised a mystified eyebrow but shrugged his shoulders. _Must be a boy thing _he thought absently. He settled Mira into her crib and scooped Wyatt out of his. He had Teddy sit in the rocking chair then lowered Wyatt into his arms. He grinned as Teddy stared at Wyatt with something akin to awe. But Draco was suddenly jolted out of his amusement when Teddy suddenly spread open Wyatt's right palm exposing the spiral birthmark for all to see.

"He's not like other babies, is he?" asked Teddy, surprising Draco even more.

"W-what makes you say that?" said Draco, folding his arms nervously.

"Just a feeling" said Teddy mysteriously.

Before Draco could question the boy further, Remus and Hermione entered the room tugging Teddy out of his strange mood. The Slytherin glanced anxiously at his son and was relieved to find Wyatt's fist curled once more.

"Draco" greeted Remus companionably, holding out his hand.

"Hello Remus" returned Draco, shaking hands.

"Look Dad, Draco let me hold Wyatt" announced Teddy.

"Wyatt? That's a nice name" said Remus, leaning over Teddy. "Aww, he's cute. I see a lot of you in him, Hermione - you must be so relieved."

It took a moment for Draco to detect the small insult concealed in Remus' words.

"Oy!" he cried incredulously, to which Remus grinned mischievously.

"Daddy, he said I was ugly!" said Romulus, jabbing an accusing finger at his brother.

"No, I said you were an ugly _baby_ ... and a fat one - get your facts straight before you taddle!"

"I wasn't ugly, was I Daddy?"

"Of course not, son - you were however, a little ... er ... pudgy" said Remus.

A snort of laughter escaped Draco's throat before he could stop it, and to save Rommy's feelings he quickly covered it up as a violent coughing fit. 'Pudgy' was rather stretching the word when referring to baby Romulus, Harry had once compared him to his cousin Dudley - if said cousin had been much cuter and not so pig-like. Romulus was staring at Draco with his bottom lip trembling; apparently he hadn't fallen for Draco's 'cough'.

"WAAAAH!" wailed Romulus.

"Uh! He's such a baby" said Teddy.

"Just you wait til I tell your mother about this, Theodore Lupin!" said Remus crossly.

"Ooooh, Daddy used your long name. You're in big trouble" said Echo gleefully.

* * *

The waves crashed noisily against the jagged black rocks, the white spray splashing stark against the ebon sky, and the wind blew icily, whipping the cloaks of two figures into a flurry. Galen and Randall had come to this stretch of jagged, rocky coast in search of the formidable Trio, who were said to dwell in a cave nearby. Randall's entire body shook from both the blistering cold, and from terrible fear. Even Galen was somewhat apprehensive. He had once been intimately connected with the Trio, but things had happened and Galen had become master of the Cimmerii - this was the name of his people - and the Trio had gone into a sort of exile. He had not visited with them for a least a century and the thought of just strolling into their lair_ - _to ask for help no less - filled him with tremendousanxiety.

"Please, my lord ... l-lets turn ba-back, it's n-not t-t-t-too late! Please, b-before they s-s-sen-sense us!" stuttered Randall, shivering violently.

"You know we can't do that, Randall," replied Galen smoothly, apparently unaffected by the cold "the boy is much too important to simply give up. The Trio will have a way to help us, you'll see."

"They c-can't be trusted!" repeated Randall for the hundredth time.

"Have a little courage, man. You forget the Trio were once some of the most brilliant wizards ever to live."

"Once, my lord ... but n-no lon-longer. Their m-mind has been poisoned by ma-madness and dark magic!"

"I think the cave was over that way," said Galen, ignoring the seer and pointing off to the right"Come" and with that hetook off in the direction indicated.

"No good will come of this" muttered Randall breathlessly. He trudged after his master, moving awkwardly over the sharp and slippery rocks.

A short while later they found the cave, a sharp, crooked hole in an outcroppingof black sea-wornrocks. Randall felt his stomach plummet as he stared into the impossibly black cave.

"Randall, do you still have the offering with you?"

"Y-yes sir" answered Randall obediently, his heart thumping painfully against his brittle ribs.

"Very good" Galen stooped over and picked up a piece of gnarleddriftwood. As Randall watched Galen whispered a few words under his breath and a ball of flames suddenly erupted from the end of the stick, effectively creating a torch. Without another word he moved forward and disappeared into the cave. With a nervous whimper Randall followed him.

In every generation of the Cimmerii there had been a master, a wizard handpicked in childhood and given incredible powers so he could rule over and protect his tribe. And for every master there had been a set of advisers, known only as the Trio. The Trio, who dwelled in this particular cave, had been more ambitious than their predecessors. Working together they had overthrown and murdered the master of the time and taken his powers. For centuries they ruled over the Cimmerii wizards as a ruthlessteam. But their ambition would be their ultimate downfall. For they had delved deeper into the Dark Arts than any wizard ever had, deeper than was necessarily wise. During one of their experiments there had been an accident - a sort of magical explosion - which had left the Trio with some horrifying side effects. So with that Galen had taken their place as leader.

Galen and Randall traversed their way carefully through a steep and uneven tunnel, the air was dank and stale making Randall wrinkle his nose in disgust, and it was eerily dark even Galen's torch had difficulty penetrating the most stubborn shadows. With each unsteady step forward Randall's trepidation rose another notch. Finally, after what seemed like hours - but was probably less than forty minutes - a dim light appeared up ahead. Randall took a deep shuddering breath and he could have sworn he saw Galen square his shoulders.

"Try to control your fear, Randall" said Galen suddenly, making the seer flinch. "If they smell weaknessin you, they'll undoubtedly take advantage of it. You're more valuable to me alive, Randall, and I'd rather not lose you."

If the speech was meant to give him courage, it had precisely the opposite effect and Randall whimpered pitifullyas Galen moved toward the light.Moments later they stepped into a vast cavern, which was lit by a few scattered fire pits, stalactiteswere hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites rose from the floor (all dripping slimily with greenish salt water), veins of salt deposits wove their way over the rock, collecting in clusters of crystals in the nooks and crannies, despite the meek firelight shadows clung to the walls and roof like drapes - all of which put together gave the chamber the look of a gothic palace. And there, carved into a particularly large stalagmite was a throne-like structure, and seated in it was the Trio - or at least what was left of them.

Randall's mouth dropped open in mute horror, and an almost unnoticeable shudder passed over Galen. What happened to the Trio was perhaps the most horrendous thing ever to happen in the history of magic. During the accident the bodies of the three wizards were somehow fused together, bent, twisted and mutated beyond recognition, until the thing that was left was barely human at all. So now the Trio existed in one distorted body, all three minds alive and active and forced to cooperate with each other.

For the moment they were asleep, slumped over slightly in their throne. The first oddity one noticed about this ... creature was the arms. There were six of them, four sprouting out of the armpits that were unnaturally long and thin, with large long-fingered hands. The remaining two grew out of the chest and were short and shrivelled and held very closely to the skeletal body. The next thing one noticed was the skin, which looked pink and raw and was stretched taut over a skeletal frame. Then there was the head; large, domed and hairless. There were three eyes, the third one set into the forehead, and all of them closed for the time being. The ears were small and pointed, and there was no nose and no nostrils - just a space where one should be. The mouth was large and lipless and full of sharp, pointy teeth, and on each cheek were two torn holes - all that remained of two other mouths, that were now useless. And hidden beneath layers of tattered black robes were two withered legs, too weak and fragile to bear the weight of the Trio's body.

Galen screwed up all the courage he possessed, simultaneously squashing any pangs of fear he may have felt, and strode toward the Trio's throne. Randall trailed behind him like a cowering dog. As the wizards drew closer the Trio's left eye opened - a white-less, oval-shaped, ruby-red eye - and watched them unblinkingly as they came closer, and finally stopped before it.

"The offering, Randall" said Galen.

Obligingly Randall began to unwrap the small bundle he'd been carrying, revealing the small body of a dead lamb. The Trio stirred a little more, and stretched out the lower right arm to receive the gift. Hearing his heart pounding in his ears, Randall handed the lamb over.

"A gift my lords, as a mark of respect" said Galen reverently.

The lower left armtook hold of the lamb's scrawny neck, and Randall unconsciously winced as the animal's spine was snapped in two, as easily as a dry twig. Both of the lower arms lifted the lamb to the lipless mouth, which suddenly opened and began to hungrily devour the flesh in front of it. The Trio's table manners left much to be desired, and were enough to turn the stomach of lord Voldemort himself. Afraid and revolted, Randall looked away. He quickly noticed a number of bones and small skeletons scattered around the cave floor - one that looked horribly like the skeleton of a small child! With a stifled cry of anguish he closed his eyes tightly shut.

Equally repulsed but showing none of it outwardly, Galen waited for the two other minds to stir. The Trio's right eye now opened and blinked at him, it to was white-less and oval-shaped and was a bright sapphire blue. The scrawny, shrivelled arms now stirred into life and folded themselves limply on the Trio's lap. All the while, the ruby-eyed part of the Trio continued to feast disgustingly on the lamb -which was disappearing at an alarming rate. It wasn't until the lamb was a pile of bones and sinew - and tossed to one side - that the vertical lids of the third eye finally parted. This eye was probably the most frightening, it was a bright violet colour, like an amethyst and was white-less and oval-shaped like the others but it was different somehow - there was an air of authority - an aura of power - and something malevolent and hypnotic in it's stare, that sent a chill down one's spine. Even amongst the Trio there was a hierarchy, with the blue eye at the bottom and the violet eye at the top.

The upper arms, which belonged to the violet eye, stretched languidly before resting the elbows on the throne and intertwining their long fingers. It was then that Galen dropped into a deep, humble bow - something he had not done for anyone in many centuries. After a moment's hesitation, Randall followed suit.

"Why have you disturbed our slumber?" said a soft, silky voice which reverberated eerily as if three voices had spoken in unison.

"Forgive me my lords ... but it has happened, the boy from the prophecy has finally been born" explained Galen.

"Indeed?" the Trio's head tilted to one side. "Then you are to be congratulated, Galen, at last you have your heir. But that doesn't answer our question."

"We ... we have come for your help" said Galen, feeling a blaze of humiliation licking at his insides. "The boy has been ... _difficult _... to acquire."

One corner of the Trio's lipless mouth curled in something like a smirk. All three eyes stared at Galen over the intertwined fingers of the upper arms.

"It is a pity ... that you did not intercept the pregnancy ... if you had cut the child from the mother's womb, he would not have had the chance to bond" whispered the Trio's soft, silky voice which was giving Randall chills.

"Unfortunately, we did not learn of the boy's presence until _after _his birth" said Galen, his humiliation rising.

The ruby and sapphire eyes focussed their attention on Randall and glittered with amusement.

"We never did have much faith in the power of oracles" said the Trio. Randall somehow found the courage to frown indignantly. "What sort of difficulties have you had?"

"The child has a shield, some form of apparation, and he has already attacked one of my men ... impressive, wouldn't you say?"

"Impressive? Hardly. He is an innocent, your people frightened him, he acted on instinct - nothing more."

Galen's humiliation was replaced by righteous anger. "Either way, the shield is a problem I didn't anticipate. I need your help to find a way around it."

"Why should we help you? It is the master's task to find an heir, a task we have already completed," two right hands gestured toward Galen. "It is not our place to interfere."

"_Interfere!_" exclaimed Galen hotly. "You know the boy is more to me than a damned heir! He has the power to bring the Cimmerii out of darkness, he is the one to build our empire - so it is written in the prophecy!"

"Yes, yes. So you have said before" hissed the Trio impatiently, waving a dismissive hand. "But we have always found it difficult to understand why a child of good magic should be destined to rule a race of dark wizards."

"Are you going to help me or not?" Galen grated out.

"Suppose we did? Are you sure you're ready? Taking an heir is a great responsibility, especially one this young - why you yourself were at least eight years old when we took you from your mother. Can you really handle an infant?"

"Yes I can" answered Galen.

"And are you ready to relinquish your leadership so soon?" asked the Trio, leaning forward and fixing Galen with an intense triple-eyed stare.

"The child won't take over until he is of age, he still has to be trained after all - there is plenty of time."

"He shall take over sooner than you think" hissed the Trio with an ugly smirk.

"If that is the case ... then so be it."

The Trio sat back and contemplated Galen for a moment. Then they laughed, a horribly wicked sound, a long drawn out hiss like a deadly viper.

"Very well" they whispered at length. "It's unlikely you'll ever find a way to break the child's shield ... but you can get him to lower his defences."

"How do I do that?" asked Galen urgently.

"Trick him."

"How?"

"Do you know of the Crone? We believe her name is -"

"Merrigan" supplied Randall in a wavering voice.

"Merrigan?" said Galen; apparently the name didn't ring a bell.

"Y-yes my lord, she's a rather p-powerful witch - a level yellow I think" explained Randall.

"She's also a shape-shifter" said the Trio smirking.

"A shape-shifter?" breathed Galen, a surge of hope rising in his chest.

"Indeed Galen" hissed the Trio silkily "find this hag ... and you may just get your boy."

"Thank you my lords, I can't tell you how grateful I -"

"Save your disgusting sentiments for someone who cares, Galen. We have done what you asked - now leave us in peace" said the Trio, waving two left arms as if to shoo them away.

"As you wish my lords" replied Galen, sinking into a bow. "Come Randall."

The Trio sat back and closed their eyes. Without a backwards glance Randall and Galen left the chamber and made their way quickly through the tunnel. It wasn't until they were back on the freezing surface that the Trio stirred from their feigned sleep.

"I don't like this plan" said a deep rumbling voice, spoken from the lipless mouth.

"Neither do I" said a high nasally voice, which also came from the Trio's mouth. "Suppose Galen succeeds?"

"So what if he does?" said a third, rather oily voice.

"You can't be serious, Erus?" said the deep rumbling voice, the ruby eye suddenly glaring. "The child is dangerous!"

"I agree with Sidus, the boy could destroy us all" said the nasally voice.

"Perhaps" said the oily voice airily.

"_Perhaps!_" chorused two voices from one mouth.

"Sidus, Grian, relax. Galen may not even get the boy" said Erus.

"If he doesn't he'll just come looking for our help again" grumbled Sidus (the owner of the ruby eye). "Pathetic little worm!"

"Indeed. I never liked him much myself" said Grian (the sapphire eye) "such a needy child, so annoying."

"The only reason we made him heir was because he was the _only _child that showed potential" added Sidus.

"But just imagine the boy's power under our control" said Erus softly.

"Under Galen's control you mean" sneered Grian.

"Suppose Galen was removed from the picture" suggested Erus.

"You mean double-cross him?" asked Grian.

"But he's master, we don't have the strength to kill him" muttered Sidus.

"And I couldn't bear to raise another heir, I detest children" moaned Grian.

"Then we let Galen raise the boy, and when he's ready have the boy kill Galen."

"Can it be done?" asked Grian, a greedy look appearing in his blue eye.

"Why not?" Erus smirked .

"It sounds rather risky, the boy could turn on us" said Sidus warily.

"Yes ... but we have nothing to lose ... and everything to gain."

* * *

Draco opened one bleary eye and stared at his outstretched arm and Hermione's empty side of the bed. _Oh Gods _moaned his inner Slytherin _what time is it?_ With a yawn Draco sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Three-forty!" he groaned, glaring at the alarm clock.

Reluctantly he dragged himself out of bed, feeling his body protest, and went in search of his absent wife. Stumbling out of his room, he crossed the landing to the nursery.

"Granger, why didn't you -?" he paused, finding the room empty except for the twins "- wake me?" he finished with a frown.

After checking on the twins, finding them sound asleep, he left the nursery scratching his head and yawning. _Maybe she went to make herself some coffee _he thought wearily _or some of that herbal tea crap._ Feeling his way through the dark, Draco trudged down the stairs. He made his way along the hallway by memory and pushed open the kitchen door. Empty. Draco had been sure she would be here and was a little panicked to find her missing yet again. _Alright calm down, _he told himself _she's probably in the living room._ _Yeah, that's it - she made herself some coffee and went to sit in the living room - she does that some times._ But the living the room was also empty.

"Hermione! Where the hell are you?" he whispered, repressing the urge to runabout the house screaming her name.

_There's only one logical place she can possibly be _said Draco's inner Slytherin confidently _and if she's not there - well hell! _- _call in a bloody search_ _party, and panic!_ He left the living room, fumbling through the dark, and made his way toward the library. He sighed when he spotted the chink of light under the door. _Why the hell didn't I check here first?_ He pushed open the door and peered inside. Hermione was sitting at the table bent over an open book and reading by the light of an oil lamp. She was so consumed in whatever it was she was doing that she hadn't noticed the sudden arrival of the blonde Slytherin. Draco rolled his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing, woman?!" said Draco loudly, startling Hermione.

"Draco! You scared me!" she gasped.

"Why aren't you in bed?" demanded Draco, striding towards her.

"I couldn't sleep - and just when did you become my keeper?!" answered Hermione, sounding a little annoyed.

"Couldn't sleep? What, even with the twins keeping us up half the night? Come off it Granger!" snorted Draco "what are you really up to?"

"Research" said Hermione evasively, trying to block Draco's view of the book.

"Oh really?" said Draco unconvinced. Reaching over Hermione's shoulder he was able to snag the book away from her grasp.

"Saffron, Sahara, Sangwuine, Sapphyre, Scarlet, Selena ..." Draco frowned at Hermione over the book. "This is a book of wiccan names, where did you get it?"

"Your mother sent it over - give it back!"

"This isn't worth losing sleep over" said Draco angrily.****

"Oh but Draco, there's so many to choose from - and I want something special for the twins - the name you give a child is very important - that goes double for a wiccan name!" said Hermione in a rush.

"Hermione, sweetheart, it can wait - trust me" said Draco, closing the book and tossing it on the table. "Now c'mon, bed!"

"But - !"

"You heard me woman, move it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, lit her wand and shut off the oil lamp. "_God!_ When did you become such a nag?" she muttered sulkily.

"I learned from the best my dear" smirked Draco.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

The couple made their way upstairs, Hermione grumbling under her breath and Draco smiling at her back. When she climbed into bed, Hermione was a little confused to find Draco standing over her with an expectant expression on his face.

"Yes?" she asked suspiciously.

"Move over" he said simply.

"What? This is my side!"

"If you think I'm going to let you sneak out the moment I fall asleep, you've got another thing coming Granger. Now move."

"Oh for heavens sake - I'm not going anywhe -" she finished with a sound like Marge Simpson as Draco climbed into her side of the bed, pulling her securely against his chest.

"Now go to sleep like a good girl, before our little darlings wake up and make that impossible" he told her, kissing her hair.

"Ugh!" sighed Hermione melodramatically.

Draco smiled against her hair, breathing in her delicious scent. After a few moments Hermione turned in his arms so she was facing him, and cuddled against his chest.

"Good night Draco" she whispered.

"Night Baby."

It wasn't long after that the couple slipped off to sleep. Safe in each others' loving embrace, Draco and Hermione could not know that far away, across an ocean a certain masked wizard had his men scouring the countryside for an old hag with special gifts that could result in the capture of their young son. Or that a new creature had been drawn into the mix, with even greater designs on Wyatt's future.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **_Hi readers! I hope you weren't too confused by my latest bad guy, the Trio -because it was rather confusing to write at times. Especially the bit at the end where the three personalities are talking to each other. I'm not quite sure where I got the idea for a three-eyed, six-armed, freakish, alien-like wizard ... I suppose it shows that my mind's a little more warped than I thought it was. Maybe I'm watching too much of the SciFi __channel ... Naaah! _

_Oh and before I forget completely here's a little explanation about the names of Lupin's kids._

_Teddy: Well duh, this one is rather obvious, I stole it from J.K.R so sue me - don't really I have nothing of value, honest._

_Echo: In Greek mythology there was a Nymph by this name who somehow lost her voice - there are various versions of how she did which I can't be bothered to go into detail about - either it was stolen from her or she lost it through grief over a dead lover or something like that - look it up for yourself if your interested. I just thought since Tonks' first name is Nymphadora that I would name her daughter after a real Nymph._

_Romulus: Remus and Romulus were twins brothers that were raised by a she wolf, I think that story's also from Greek mythology but don't quote me on it. Either way I thought it was a fitting name for Lupin's son._


	7. Chapter 7

1**Chapter Seven**

**Authors' Notes:**_ Sorry this chapter has taken so long, but I've been really busy recently and haven't had much time to write. Plus I've been working through the worst writer's block I've ever had! Nothing special happens in this chapter, just thought I'd give you _something_ so you don't think I'm dead or anything, which thankfully I'm not _:) _Enjoy and please leave a comment._

_P.S. Did I mention that I actually managed to write a little romance?_

**Disclaimer:**_ Unfortunately I don't own these characters but I promise to return them once I'm finished with them._

Draco awoke a few hours later, the trill of birdsong and faint light peeking through the drapes told him it was somewhere near dawn. Presently his body was wrapped around Hermione, who had turned at some point during the night so that her tight little ass was pressed firmly against his groin - and not surprisingly certain parts of Draco's anatomy where starting to react to such intimate contact. Draco stifled a groan. _Oh Gods _he thought miserably _why must she torment me!_ Biting his lower lip he tried to put a little distance between them while still keeping Hermione in his arms. But before he could let his hormones cool off, Hermione gave a small moan of protest and wriggled back against him. This time he groaned out loud.

"C'mon Granger, play fair" he whispered in frustration. "Sweet Merlin you smell good!"

Draco buried his face against Hermione's shoulder and inhaled her clean, perfumed scent. Draco loved the way she smelled; of jasmine and lavender, and something distinctly Hermione - and now he realised, there was something new - the smell of babies and breast milk, the smell of motherhood. This thought caused a large grin to split Draco's face. He propped himself on one elbow and leaned over her. One thing he loved more than Hermione's scent was waking up beside her every morning, no matter how corny or cliched it sounded. There was something to be said about waking each day knowing that you weren't alone; knowing that the person curled in your arms was the most precious thing in the world to you and that you loved them more than life, and what was even better was the knowledge that that person returned those feelings with equal measure. Draco hated waking up alone. Whenever Hermione woke before him - whether it be due to insomnia, work, one of her crazy schedules, or more recently the twins - it wouldn't be long before Draco sensed her loss and consequently go in search of her reassuring presence.

He watched as Hermione slept on, oblivious to the arousal she'd stirred in her husband or the attention she was currently receiving. He let his eyes wander over her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her soft creamy skin, her rosy lips that were slightly parted, and her wild chestnut curls that were fanned out over the pillow. Draco dropped a kiss onto Hermione's shoulder. It was then - with Draco bent over her, a fond expression of his face - that a screeching wail fractured the silence and Hermione's head shot off the pillow and smashed into Draco's chin.

"OUCH!" they both cried (Draco's being significantly louder).

"Fuck!" he groaned, collapsing against his pillows and cradling his jaw.

"Oh God! Hunny, are you alright?" asked Hermione urgently, trying to pry his hands away from his face. "Oh Draco I'm so sorry! I didn't mean - _Gods_ that must hurt like -"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" screamed Mira from the other room.

"Baby!" grunted Draco.

"Yes?" said Hermione.

"No. Baby. Go!" said Draco.

"What? Oh - oh right - I'll be right back, okay - do you want me to get you some ice?"

"Baby!" gritted Draco.

"Yes, just going!"

"Urghff!!" he grunted, as Hermione scrambled over him and accidentally kneed him in the groin.

"Oh Draco I -!" Hermione started to apologise.

"Just go!" wheezed Draco, his eyes tearing up slightly.

Looking and feeling extremely guilty for hurting him twice in the space of a few seconds, Hermione hurriedly left the room. A few minutes later the wailing died down in the next room and Hermione returned with Mira in her arms. She crawled in beside Draco, who was still holding his chin.

"Draco I'm really -" she began but Draco held up a hand to stop her.

"It's alright Granger, it wasn't your fault - actually it was mine for watching you -"

"What?" asked Hermione, taking her eyes off Mira, and giving Draco a sly smile. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Maybe" he smirked.

He sat up and leaned his aching chin on Hermione's soft shoulder and watched as she nursed Mira. Normally the sight of her exposed breast would arouse him (okay, so it still aroused him, so much so that Hermione could probably feel his reaction pressed against her hip) but now, as he watched his baby daughter nurse, he was also filled with a warm fuzzy emotion he couldn't quite identify.

"Hermione?" he began softly.

"Hmmm?"

"What does it feel like? Breast feeding I mean?"

"It's hard to explain" said Hermione "weird I guess - but in a good way."

"So it's not like when I touch you?" asked Draco uncertainly.

"No" giggled Hermione. "That would be really weird. This is ... innocent."

"Good" said Draco, caressing Mira's head. "Otherwise I might get jealous."

"Oh honestly Draco!" sighed Hermione.

"She's perfect, you know that" said Draco after a short pause. "They both are."

"Yes, I know" agreed Hermione blissfully.

"I never realised it would feel like this, being a parent. I mean you hear people say all the time it's the greatest feeling in the world, but you don't actually believe them - at least, not until you experience it yourself. I can't remember ever feeling this happy before, and it's all because of you Hermione."

"I don't mean to nitpick, but I didn't do this entirely on my own, I did have a little help" retorted Hermione.

"I'm serious, Granger" returned Draco, sitting up straight and tilting Hermione's chin until she was looking him in the eye.

"If it hadn't been for you, I'd probably be serving a life sentence in Azkaban or -"

"You don't know that!" she interrupted hotly.

"Yes I do" he cut across her. "It was you who made me question everything I'd been taught since birth. You who forced me to look at the world from a different perspective. And what amazes me the most is that you did it without even trying - that you did it without realising you were effecting me."

He leaned his forehead against hers, grey eyes boring into brown ones.

"I'd be lost without you Granger" he whispered.

A small whimper escaped Hermione before she lunged forward and covered his mouth with hers in a heated kiss. It was several minutes later that they finally came up for air, and only then because of the mew of protest Mira made at being squashed between them.

"Sorry sweetie, didn't mean to forget about you" Draco said apologetically to the infant.

"I love you" whispered Hermione, still gazing at him.

She watched in wonder as a goofy, Cheshire-cat grin burst across Draco's face like an exploding firework. It was funny that three simple words were guaranteed to elicit such a reaction from him each and every time she uttered them.

"I love you too" he said, gracing her forehead with a kiss.

Meanwhile back in the nursery, where Wyatt had been left alone, something odd was happening. Miraculously, despite the racket his twin sister had made, Wyatt was still sound asleep blissfully unaware that the window was slowly sliding open. But this time it was not a black mist that entered the room, but something small and bright that shot through the narrow gap between the window and sill like a minuscule shooting star. Moments later this orb of light was followed by several others, each glowing with a different colour. On closer inspection these lights turned out to be tiny people, no bigger than a child's pinkie, with tiny transparent wings like dragonflies. Wild fairies, beautiful, mysterious creatures that normally avoided humans, else they be turned into some humiliating Christmas decoration by their wizard counterparts. Now fairies were incredibly sensitive to the magic of other magical beings, and a few nights ago this particular clan had felt the explosive power of Wyatt's birth and curiosity had drawn them here tonight. They wanted to know just what could be the source of such potent magic.

It was ironic that these creatures - deemed as having inferior intelligence by the Ministry - should be able to track down this child so easily, when the Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour, with a hoard of trained Aurors and talented witches and wizards at his disposal, should still be at a loss to explain what had happened on the second of February. The fairies were genuinely amazed to discover that a child so young was emitting such power. Crookshanks, who was curled up on Hermione's rocking chair, now opened one bleary yellow eye and cast his drowsy gaze toward the crib. He took in the bright, rainbow lights hovering around the dragon-mobile and baby boy before closing his eye again. It took about twenty seconds for his brain to process this information before the cat's head shot off his front paws as he did a double take.

A faint tinkling filled the air, it was the sound of fairy language, and it was remarkably similar to the sound of Wyatt's apparation. It was this, and not the wails of a twin sister, that finally roused Wyatt from his slumber. His large grey eyes fluttered open and focussed on the largest fairy, a bright gold one - the queen no less - which hovered above his face. The baby gave a high-pitched squeal and waved his arms enthusiastically. The fairy drew closer stretching out a minuscule hand as she did so. The moment was shattered however by a hissing Crookshanks who suddenly leapt athletically into the crib, swiping at the tiny creatures who took off in fright and fled through the window.

Crookshanks sat himself down at Wyatt's feet, puffing his chest out in satisfaction for once again protecting the Malfoy heir from certain doom. But if the old cat expected gratitude from the infant he got precisely the opposite reaction as Wyatt began to cry in outrage. Moments later Draco appeared in the doorway. If cats could groan, Crookshanks would've done so right then.

"_God dammit cat!_" cried Draco furiously, marching toward the crib. "I bloody _warned_ you!"

As Crookshanks soared through the air - something that was happening with alarming frequency these days - he counted himself lucky that he would land on his feet and that Draco in normal circumstances wasn't subject to fits of animal cruelty.

"C'mere sweetheart" crooned Draco, lifting Wyatt into his arms. "Did that mean old cat frighten you?"

It was at this comment that Crookshanks left the room in a huff.

"It's alright, Daddy's here now" said Draco soothingly, rocking the baby. "C'mon, let's go see your Mum." With that the young father left the nursery, his son securely cradled in his arms.

--

The next day found Draco in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Hermione, who was asleep upstairs. He was standing over the stove frying some eggs and bacon, wearing nothing but a pair of green silk pyjama bottoms. The twins, who of course had been fed and changed a few hours previous, were settled in the sitting room, snuggled together in their bassinet - and against his better judgment Crookshanks was perched on the sofa keeping an eye on them. Draco owed what little culinary skills he had to Hermione who still preferred cooking the muggle way and had taken the pains of teaching him the basics. So being the generous, perceptive husband that he was Draco thought Hermione would appreciate breakfast prepared the 'old fashioned way'. He watched as the eggs and bacon sizzled greasily in the frying pan and whistled some chirpy tune he'd heard off the radio. With his back to the window he didn't notice the small black shape in the sky grow steadily bigger, didn't notice that is, until it slammed loudly into the windowpane.

"CHRIST!" he yelled, jumping about a foot in the air and almost throwing the frying pan across the room.

He spun round just in time to see something grey and fluffy slide off the window and drop into the flower bed beneath it.

"_Errol?!_" exclaimed Draco, rushing toward the back door to retrieve the elderly owl.

"Merlin's whiskers! I thought Molly had retired you!" he said, picking the bird up by the legs. "Is that new bird, what's-his-name, still in bloody Romania?"

Draco laid the now unconscious Errol on the kitchen table, prying the slightly crumpled letter from his claws. The Weasley's newest bird, a tawny owl named Howard, was in Draco's opinion the laziest owl he'd ever known. It would take him hours, maybe even days to deliver something between the Burrow and say London. A task most owls could achieve in an hour at the most, even Errol - who was perhaps a thousand years old by now - could deliver roughly on time, even if the effort half killed him. It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with Howard, he was a young, perfectly healthy bird. It was just that he liked to take lots of pit stops between journeys - Draco knew this as he had taken it upon himself to follow the damned thing by broomstick on one occasion a few years ago. Draco blamed Molly, she had developed a peculiar soft spot for the ruddy creature and spoiled him rotten with owl treats.

A loud yawn announced the arrival of Hermione who was donned in one of Draco's shirts - a habit she had picked up during her pregnancy - and a pair of very short lilac shorts. Her hair was fluffed up and tousled and there were dark smudges under her eyes, but that didn't stop Draco's breath from catching. He'd forgotten just how good she could look in one of his shirts _without_ the baby bump. His eyes raked her drowsy figure from head to toe, coming to rest finally on her long bare legs.

"Morning" she greeted sleepily.

"I was making you breakfast in bed" croaked Draco, addressing Hermione's knees.

"Sorry, but the smell of bacon woke me up - is that Errol?"

"Hmmm - Oh yeah, letter's for you" said Draco distractedly, handing Hermione the envelope. "You look gorgeous by the way" he added huskily.

Hermione glanced down at herself then back at Draco wearing a _Have-you-lost-your-mind? _sort of expression.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, I'm being serious. You look Hot in that shirt, Granger" he purred, leaning in and kissing her neck.

His hands skimmed down to her waist and delved under the shirt to caress her stomach.

"It's amazing how fast you've lost the baby weight" he commented, kissing and licking his way down her neck.

"You can thank that little healing potion I've been taking for that, it's secondary function is to restore a woman's figure. Smart huh?"

"Mmm ... how much longer until you're fully healed?"

"Not for another few weeks I'm afraid, so maybe you should stop while you're ahead" said Hermione, giving Draco an apologetic kiss on the cheek who groaned in frustration.

Hermione sat down at the table and unfolded the envelope, while Draco poured her a cup of coffee and set it in front of her.

"Poor Errol" she said, poking the unconscious bird with the tip of her finger. "It seems awfully cruel of Molly to send him, he's far too old."

Draco, who wasn't the least bit interested in the owl anymore, leaned his hands on the table, his eyes still admiring his wife's body.

"You know," he said abruptly "as much as I love your body the way it is now ..." Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement "I kinda miss the bump. You look good pregnant."

"Well there's not much you can do about that, is there?" she retorted, taking a welcome sip of coffee.

"Of course there is, I can knock you up again" Draco drawled smugly.

"_What!_" she spluttered indignantly. "You can't possibly want more children already!"

"Oh yes. I wont be satisfied until I breed my own quidditch team out of you, Granger" he told her smirking.

"It's alright for you to say that, but you're not the one who has to suffer through the _agony_ of childbirth!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but was it not _you _that turned down the pain-free birthing option?"

"Why you arrogant, annoying little -" raged Hermione, annoyed that he was actually right.

"C'mon Granger, we're both only children - you can't tell me you haven't always wanted to have a big family of your own?"

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth.

"Well yes," she muttered "it's hard not to when you spend a lot of time with the Weasleys. But if you don't mind, I'd like to get my head around twins before we have your bloody quidditch team!"

"Of course, my dear, I don't expect you to pop another one out in the next nine months or anything ... just, you know ... when the time's right."

He looked at her with one of those dazzling smiles that could make a girl swoon and she felt a matching grin grow on her face. The moment was broken however when Hermione suddenly said:

"Is something burning?"

"Crap!" yelled Draco, running over to the stove.

As Draco began airing curses Hermione opened her letter and started to read aloud, if only to cover up the obscenities leaving the Slytherin's mouth.

"'_Dear Hermione and Draco,_

_Hope you and the little ones are well. I would have flooed but our fireplace has been on the fritz since the 2__nd__. Arthur had a look at it last night and almost blew his head off _'- I hope he's alright! - '_bloody fool, I told him we needed to get an expert in, but of course he can fix anything can't he? "How hard can it be Molly?" he asked me "I know how to wire a plug, dear," he says "so this should be child's play". Child's play? Is that what you call decapitation by fireplace?! Idiot. I had to send Errol since Howard's away, I hope he's alright it's been over a week now -_'"

"More than alright I should say" muttered Draco, chucking the charcoaled remain's of Hermione's breakfast in the bin.

"'_I was just wondering if you two wanted to come over for lunch today? Arthur's so very desperate to meet the twins, and I'm very keen to see them again too. Harry and Ginny will be there, and Ron and Bill if I'm lucky_. _I just thought it would do you good to get out of the house for a little while, and let someone help out with the twins. If you're interested owl me as soon as possible so I can set everything up._

_Love Molly_'

Oh Draco that sounds like fun!"

"No it bloody doesn't" grumbled Draco.

"But it's just lunch, we don't have to stay long."

"Hermione -!"

"Oh please Draco, it's been ages since we all got together at the Burrow!"

"Granger I'm tired, you're tired. The past few days have been very stressful for both of us - I just don't think this is the right time to expose ourselves to a hoard of Weasleys!"

"But it's not a hoard, it's just Harry and Ginny and Ron -!"

"Exactly! Weasel boy will be there, and after what he said last time, I'm liable to punch that stupid grin off his ugly, freckled mug!"

"But Ron apologised for that, and you can't really blame him. I mean, _we _were worried about Wyatt's little ... mark, for a short while weren't we?"

_Damn_ thought Draco _I'm running out of bloody excuses. Can't she see I just want to spend the day alone with her and the kids. _

"But - Um ... what about the twins? They're still so little, do you really want a bunch of people fussing over them?"

"Oh now you're just being absurd!" sighed Hermione "Draco, we're talking about a couple of hours!"

**  
**"Which is a couple of hours too long in my opinion!" groused Draco.

"You can't fool me, Draco Malfoy, I know you love the Weasleys as much as I do - so you might as well stop with these ridiculous excuses!"

"How dare you - that's completely - I never been so -!" spluttered Draco incredulously, colour rising in his pale cheeks.

"Alright then!" cried Hermione jumping to her feet, and distracting Draco from his embarrassment as her slim legs came back into view. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go to the Burrow?!"

Draco's upper body sagged in defeat and he gave an aggrieved sigh. With his gaze locked on the floor, Draco placed his hands on his hips and mumbled something incoherent to his feet.

"What?" asked Hermione, taking a few steps forward.

"Wh-what if Molly and Arthur ..." began Draco hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What if they ... notice Wyatt's mark?"

"Is that what's worrying you?" said Hermione, crossing the space separating them and cupping his face between her hands.

"Hermione, they're purebloods, they've been raised with the same superstitions as my family. What if they think he's some sort of -" _Freak _he finished in his head.

"Draco, the odds of them noticing Wyatt's mark are pretty slim - I mean we didn't notice it until Harry pointed it out. Besides this is the Weasleys we're talking about, they're hardly your typical pureblood family, are they? I certainly don't think they'd treat us or Wyatt any different because of a silly little birthmark."

"Yes but Arthur works for the Ministry ... so technically ... it's his duty to report this to the Minister" said Draco gravely.

"Why would he do such - wait, what do mean duty?!"

"Hell woman! Why couldn't you have just accepted the 'tired and stressed' excuse?"

"Draco?!" said Hermione, her voice stern.

"Well, when a marked child is born ... the parents are obligated to inform the Ministry" he explained reluctantly.

"Why?"

"I don't know, to be monitored I guess. Either way I don't want that bastard Scrimgeour finding out about our son!"

Hermione chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, while Draco ran his hands up and down her upper arms.

"I suppose I should be grateful to the Weasel for not blabbing" he added grudgingly.

"Ron wouldn't do that, and neither would Molly or Arthur. They're our friends, Draco, and friends don't betray you like that."

Draco felt tempted to remind her of Peter Pettigrew, and just how loyal a friend he was, but decided that saying this out loud might be pressing his luck just a tad too far. The whole situation made him anxious, although he trusted the Weasleys with his life (_and yes that goes for Ron too _he admitted reluctantly) he wasn't quite sure if he trusted _anyone_ - except Hermione of course - with the life of his son. As if reading his mind Hermione suddenly said:

"But if you're still worried, we'll just make sure no-one notices the birthmark. I have some magical concealer we can dab on, and as an extra precaution we can put on those mittens my mother bought. If I do all that, do you think you could handle a visit to the Burrow?"

"Like I really have a choice anymore" sighed Draco in defeat.

"Yay! Thank you sweetie, you wont regret it, I promise" said Hermione happily, standing on her tippy-toes to kiss his cheek.

"I hope you're right" said Draco, mustering a smile. "You better write a reply to Molly, you know what she's like - she'll want the go-ahead to start making our favourite foods - and for Merlin's sake, send Deacon with it. Errol doesn't look like he'll be returning to consciousness any time soon."

Hermione grinned, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before hurrying off to scribble down a reply for Molly, leaving Draco with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. A few hours later found him pacing the hallway below the stairs, waiting for Hermione - who was taking a very long time getting the twins ready for their visit.

"Come on Hermione!" he yelled impatiently "if you don't get a move on we are gonna be late!"

"I know, I know I'm coming - just give me a minute!" came Hermione's slightly muffled reply.

"You said that five minutes ago!" he called back incredulously "What the hell are you doing up there!"

He growled in frustration when Hermione made no response. He glanced fretfully at his watch for perhaps the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. The unease he had felt earlier had now bubbled into irrational panic. He kept imagining situations in which Wyatt's secret would be found out - each more elaborate and absurd than the last - and all of them ending with the Aurors being summoned, him and Hermione being arrested and their son whisked away by the Ministry, never to be seen again. It was insane that he was letting something this trivial get to him. It was insane that his stomach was in knots, and that he could feel the first throbs of a headache gathering at his temples. But hell, he couldn't help it! It wasn't that he believed in all this '_cursed child_' business - no, no, he had already convinced himself that it was superstitious crap, archaic beliefs that belonged buried in the past along with all that mudblood shit. Of course, just because he was being so open-minded, didn't mean others would.

Perhaps what scared Draco the most was the thought of losing the Weasleys because of Wyatt's birthmark. As much as their children annoyed him, Molly and Arthur had become like a second set of parents to Draco. They had put a roof over his head when he had no where else to go, trusted him when they had no reason to, treated him with kindness despite everything his father had done to their family, and made him feel safe and welcome. All that he had with them, could change because of a tiny, spiral-shaped mark on his son's right palm. And judging by Ron's reaction the other day, it didn't bode well that the kindly couple would let the matter slide so easily. _Mind you, Weasel still believes in all that Grim rubbish - the Moron!_ Draco sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Losing the Weasleys scared Draco, but what terrified him was the thought of them betraying him and taking the information about Wyatt to the Ministry. Draco didn't know what the Ministry's policy was on marked children these days, other than registering them. In the past the poor bastards had been brutally punished for bearing the '_Marks of evil_': tortured, maimed and then murdered. And writing down a child's name so they can be monitored throughout their life seemed decidedly suspicious to Draco, suppose one day his son presented some unusual magical ability, would that set off alarm bells at the Ministry, summoning top secret Ministry officials to his house to cart off his child. _God! I'm beginning to sound like Mad-Eye - bloody - Moody! _

"HERMIONE!" he screamed, reaching the end of his tether.

When no answer was forthcoming, Draco growled once again and sprang up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He barged into the nursery, his mouth falling open almost instantly as his eyes took in the dozens of tiny outfits scattered about the room in neat piles. A huffing noise had him swinging round to find Hermione rooting about in Wyatt's wardrobe.

"What in the name of Merlin's hairy arse, are you doing woman?!" he demanded crossly.

Instead of an answer Hermione withdrew her head from the wardrobe and held up two baby-gros for Draco's inspection.

"What do you think?" she asked. "This blue one with the teddy bears? Or, this stripy one?"

"What?!"

"Maybe that nice Winnie the Pooh one Mum bought ... hmm, where'd I put it?"

"Hermione?!"

"I've narrowed it down to three little dresses for Mira, so you'll have to help me choose - unless you think she'd be warmer in a baby-gro? Yes, come to think it she probably would. Oh! That means I have to start from scratch!"

"Granger!"

"There's this nice lavender one with kittens on it, which is -"

"Bloody hell WOMAN!" cried Draco, throwing his arms in the air. "I thought you were above this! All this frivolous, pointless, obsessing over every article of clothing - it's part of the reason I fell in love with you - and now! Now that you're a mother you're suddenly ... suddenly ... _Lavender Brown!!_"

"Draco, I just want them to look nice for Molly's visit - and that's no way to talk about Ron's future wife!"

"Pfft!" snorted Draco, "She's not his future wife until he grows the balls to ask her!"

"He will, I know he will ... he just needs -"

"_Time!? _They've been seeing each other since sixth year, that's nine years! How much more time does he bloody need?" he asked incredulously.

"But getting back on subject - you want them to look nice?! Are you serious? Have you looked at our babies? Have you actually stopped and looked at them?! Now I don't want to brag or anything -"

"Well that would be a first" muttered Hermione sarcastically.

"Or anything!" he continued peevishly, "but our twins are without a doubt the most gorgeous children ever born, and therefore would look stunning in any outfit you put them in. Not unlike their parents I must say" he added cheekily, tilting his head to the side and striking what he obviously thought to be a model's pose. Hermione burst out laughing.

"Seriously Draco," she giggled a few minutes later "you have to help me pick something, I know it sounds silly but ..."

"Alright, alright I get it" he gave in, strolling forward and joining her at the wardrobe.

"Hmm, let me see ... where's the one mother got ... no ... that's not it ... no ... _lambs?_ Definitely no! ... not that one ... or that one ... AHA!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows curiously as Draco withdrew from the wardrobe and held up a pale green baby-gro, the sleeves were striped with silver and there was a small silver dragon curled on the chest with Wyatt's name embroidered below it.

"Subtle" said Hermione, folding her arms across her chest.

"I thought you might like it!" beamed Draco. "And look, it even has a matching hat!"

"I suppose you think our son will be in Slytherin?" asked Hermione, trying very hard not to smile.

"Without a doubt" he replied cockily. "All my family have been in Slytherin."

"That doesn't necessarily mean our children will follow in your footsteps, they could quite easily follow mine and join Gryffindor."

"I suppose there is a small risk of that" retorted Draco, looking thoughtful.

"Risk?!" said Hermione, poking him in the chest and feigning outrage.

"Ouch! _Chance!_ - what I meant to say was chance - a small _chance _of that happening" he hastily added with a smirk.

It was funny how a few moments spent in Hermione's company could have such a calming effect on him, downstairs he'd practically been pulling his hair out with worry and now here he was cracking jokes. In fact he'd almost forgotten why he was so concerned about this visit to the Burrow - _almost_ being the operative word - it was still there, just beneath the surface, nagging for his attention. But he would do his best to ignore it, he didn't want to ruin the day for Hermione, it really had been a while since either of them had spent quality time with the Weasleys (other than Ron and Ginny of course) - they'd been so busy the past month preparing for the twins.

"Well then Mr Malfoy, since you're such an expert in infant fashion, what outfit do you suggest for our daughter?"

Never one to back down from a challenge, Draco quirked an eyebrow and grinned down at her. Handing Hermione the dragon baby-gro he moved toward Mira's wardrobe, pausing on his way to pick up the lavender/kitten ensemble Hermione had mentioned.

"As much as I love adorable little kittens" he said sarcastically "they are _so_ last season!"

Hermione stifled a giggle. He turned to the wardrobe and peered inside. "Hmmm!" he hummed dramatically, making Hermione roll her eyes in amusement. He thumbed through the miniature outfits hung on the rack, each one precious enough to easily extract an adoring coo from any mother or sentimental female, and yet none of them earning Draco's good opinion. At last, just as he was giving up hope, something caught his eye. It took some restraint not to coo himself, which meant it was perfect. It was a simple white baby dress, with smocking, short delicate sleeves and pale blue flowers embroidered on the front. This matched with Wyatt's little dragon suit would knock the Weasley's socks off, and that's exactly what Draco wanted. After all, one of the things Malfoys did best was show off. He turned to Hermione, keeping the dress hidden behind his back, a triumphant grin plastered on his smug face. Recognising the expression Hermione huffed an impatient breath and dropped her hands to her hips, which distracted Draco momentarily as he dropped his gaze to admire her luscious curves.

"Draco?" prompted Hermione, when he made no move to continue, his eyes still focussed on her waist, his wide grin replaced by a saucy smirk.

Reluctantly, Draco snapped out of his fantasies.

"Well, since both of us are very capable of producing a warming charm, _and_ since we happen to be visiting the Burrow - a place never lacking in warmth - I thought this might be fitting for the occasion" he said, revealing the dress with a flamboyant motion of his arm.

"Oh Draco!" she gasped, and Draco was pleased to see her face light up. "Oh it's gorgeous!" she exclaimed, crossing the room to get a better look and wondering to herself how she managed to overlook such a thing.

"Oh, but ... isn't it ... a bit ... flashy?" she asked hesitantly.

"Flashy?!" scoffed Draco. "Darling, we Malfoys don't do flashy, we do sophisticated!"

She grinned at that, and standing on her tippy-toes gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Is that it?" he pouted. "I go and find you two perfect outfits for our two perfect children and all I get is a peck on the cheek. Don't I get a real kiss?"

It was Hermione's turn to smirk as she drew Draco's head down for a long, searing kiss. She kissed him in a way that drove him mad, caressing his tongue with hers one second then sucking and nibbling on his lips the next. He wound his free arm around her waist bringing her flush against his body. As he switched to the aggressor, plundering the depths of her mouth with his very skilful tongue, she moaned, a sound that sent a spear of hot desire to his belly. He needed her closer, much closer, he needed to feel her silky skin pressed against his, he wanted to absorb her into his very flesh and bones until they were one being. His other arm itched to join its' twin and began to move on it's own accord towards her body. Just as the delicate white dress was about to be crushed Hermione caught Draco's wrist in her hand and withdrew ever so slightly from his mouth.

"Wrinkle that dress and you're a dead man, Malfoy" she murmured against his lips.

"Mmm ... I love it when you threaten me with bodily harm" he purred, and he hated it when she called him by his last name, which thankfully was very rarely - usually when he had done something to make her angry.

"Didn't you say we'd be late if we took much longer getting ready?" she said softly, peppering his jaw with light kisses.

"Did I?" Maybe it was Hermione's scent fogging his mind, or perhaps his building desire to be buried deep inside her, but Draco honestly couldn't recall anything he had said or done up until she had kissed him.

"Don't you think we should get a move on?"

"Must we?!" he groaned petulantly.

With one last placating kiss Hermione pulled away, taking the dress with her, and went to Mira's crib to change the baby girl into her new dress. Draco folded his arm crossly and tried not to scowl too much.

"And don't pull that face, Draco Malfoy, even if we did have time you know we can't do ... _that_ ... not yet at least. You'll just have to be patient."

"Humph!" huffed Draco, scowling even harder. Hermione just rolled her eyes and smiled.

--

A short while later the Malfoys were assembled in the entrance hall, Hermione had dressed the twins in their 'perfect' outfits - finding white tights, a pale pink cardigan and a woollen cap for Mira to wear. As promised she had also dabbed magical concealer onto Wyatt's birthmark and fitted both him and his sister with the mittens their grandmother had bought. They were snuggled contentedly together in their Silver Cross pram waiting to depart for the Burrow.

"Ready?" asked Draco.

Hermione worried the flesh of her bottom lip with her teeth, her brow drawing together in an anxious expression. "Are you sure this is safe, Draco?" she asked quietly.

"How many times! ..." sighed Draco, "Hermione, sweetheart, I'm telling you apparation is the safest way for newborn children to travel ... unless you fancy strapping a baby-carrier to my Firebolt and taking the twins on their first broomstick ride?"

Hermione shuddered at the thought, she hated to fly and did everything possible to avoid it. Even when she did fly it was never on her own but on the back of Draco's broomstick, clinging fiercely to his waist with her face burrowed against his shoulder blades.

"Shame" smirked Draco, seeing her reaction, "sounds like fun ... we could get one of those specialised family brooms, they're not nearly as ugly as they used to be" he suggested brightly, a mischievous grin splitting his face.

"Draco I'm serious!" cried Hermione in aggravation.

"So am I! You know as well I do that all of the Weasley sprogs travelled by side-along-apparation as newborns, and no harm ever came to them!"

"Yes but ... this is different" muttered Hermione, gazing at Wyatt's and Mira's faces peeking out from under their blankets.

"Different because this time, it's _your _children" he said wisely, a warm smile softening his features. It seemed when it came to worrying about their kids, he and Hermione were as bad as each other. He moved to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and dipping his head so it was level with her ear.

"Baby, trust me, nothing bad is going to happen."

He could tell she was unconvinced by how tense her body was, she was gripping the handle of the pram so tight her knuckles were turning white. He slid his left hand down her arm and took a hold of the handle too, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

"How long would it take to go by car?"

"Really?!" squeaked Hermione, turning to him excitedly. It was over before she knew what had happened. Draco tightened his grip on her and the pram and twisted his body to the side, there was a moment of oppressive darkness where she felt like she was being squeezed through a very tight tunnel, and then next thing she knew she was staring at the Weasley's front door.

"Wha-?!" she gasped. "You sneaky ferret! You, you tricked me!"

"You act like you're surprised, it's almost as if you don't know me at all" said Draco, pretending to be offended.

"I can't believe you did that!" cried Hermione indignantly.

"If I hadn't, we'd still be in the hall, arguing this point to death! And look, here we are, all in one piece ... kids didn't even bat an eyelid!"

"Humph!" huffed Hermione.

"Look, love, I'm sorry I tricked you but ... we're here now, so lets just get this over with, eh?"

"Alright, but if you think this is over Draco Malfoy you are seriously mistaken" she sniffed haughtily, stepping out of his arms and rapping her knuckles smartly on the Weasley's door.

Moments later it was answered by a rather harassed looking Molly Weasley, whose face immediately brightened upon seeing them.

"Hello dears!" she greeted happily, hastily wiping her hands on her apron. "You're late, I was beginning to get worried."

"A minor setback is all Molly" said Draco, smirking as the older witch hugged the stuffing out of Hermione. "But it's all sorted now, thanks to some Slytherin cunning."

"Good, good. Now get yourselves inside before you catch your deaths of cold" ordered Mrs Weasley, pushing Hermione ahead of her with one hand and waving the other at Draco, beckoning him to follow. Draco looked quizzically about him, expecting to see a blizzard blowing in from the horizon, he was met by weak sunlight peaking through grey clouds - a relatively mild day given the torrential rain the country had been hit with the previous few weeks.

"Now! Let me see the little darlings!" chirped Molly, once the door had snapped shut behind Draco and he too had received a motherly embrace.

Carefully she peeled back the twins' blankets and was greeted by the pair of them blinking sleepily up at her.

"Ooooohh!" she crooned "Don't you two look smart! A-coochy-coochy-coo! Oh aren't you just precious my little angels, yes you are, yes! Look at those faces, they're just _adorable!_"

Draco rolled his eyes in amusement as Molly continued to ramble on in gibberish, her voice taking on a high-pitched, sugary sweet tone. _Women!_ said Draco's inner Slytherin in disdain.

"Are Harry and Ginny here yet, and Ron?" asked Hermione.

At the mention of the Potters and her youngest son, Molly snapped back to normal in an instant, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder at Draco. The Slytherin raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Ah ... yes dear, they're in the front room" she answered, somewhat hesitantly Draco noted. "Why don't you go on through, Arthur's waiting to meet the twins."

Trying to suppress his suspicions, Draco followed Hermione toward the front room door. Hermione pulled open the door and the pair of them jumped in surprise as they were met by an explosion of sound, a great cheer rising up from the crowd of people crammed together inside. Not only had Harry, Ginny and Ron turned up, but so too had Charlie, Fleur and their three children, Fred and George and their young families, Percy, his wife Penelope and their son Phillip, and all five of the Lupins. _Treachery_ cried Draco's inner Slytherin in outrage, _you've been tricked, hoodwinked, bamboozled! Get out Malfoy while you still can, get out, get out, get out! _At that moment things took a turn for the worse as every woman in the room came swarming toward him and the pram, to coo and aww and ooh at the infants. Draco felt distinctly queasy. He turned his patented Slytherin Death-glare on Molly, who was wringing her hands nervously and wearing an apologetic sort of smile.

"Harry decided to invite the Lupins along ..." she explained hastily.

"I did?" said Harry, who was peering over Ginny's head trying to glimpse the twins "Goompth! I mean, of course I did - Ow Gin, that hurt!" he ended on a stage whisper.

"And the twins just turned up out of the blue ..." she continued, her smile waning ever so slightly under the look Draco was giving her.

"No we didn't, you sent Dad round with a port-" Fred stopped at the expression of murder Mrs Weasley shot him. "-ah yes, completely out of the blue ..."

"Oh yes, it's been far too long since our last visit" said George.

"Almost three days" muttered Fred.

"And ... erm, Ron told Percy he was coming, so he decided to tag along" she added, trying not to react as the twins snickered and Ron's ears tuned red in outrage.

"So you see, it's all just a happy coincidence" she finished, clapping her hands together cheerfully.

"Yes, it's almost too good to be _true!_" growled Draco, narrowing his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8 Part One

**Chapter Eight**

"Ouch!" a hard pinch to his elbow had his eyes swinging round to Hermione, who had sidled up to his side.

"Draco, behave yourself!" she whispered out the corner of her mouth.

"This is exactly what I didn't want, Hermione, a hoard of Weasleys!" he hissed back, giving a nod to Bill Weasley who was congratulating him and Hermione about the twins. "Count them, Granger, over five constitutes as a hoard!"

"Draco, I'm warning you" she growled through a bright smile, giving his arm another pinch.

"Ah! Damn you woman, I will not be order- Ah! - Okay - Ow, Ow! - Alright - Ah - I'll be good!"

At that moment Mr Weasley made his way to the front of the group, not without some difficulty. "Alright everyone!" he exclaimed irritably "Go and take a seat, do you want to smother the poor things? Besides, I've been denied this pleasure long enough. Go on, off you go, all of you! Yes that means you too Ginny."

With much grumbling and groaning the group slowly dispersed, leaving just Mr Weasley who beamed back at them. Draco couldn't help but notice that Mr Weasley's eyebrows looked singed and that there was a smudge of soot on his left ear, no doubt down to his tampering with the fireplace the night before. He gave Hermione an affectionate peck on the cheek, and a warm paternal handshake to Draco.

"I'm terribly sorry about all this, my boy" he said in an undertone to Draco. "This was all Molly's doing, I wanted nothing to do with it ... but er ... she made me help her ... you know how single-minded she can be, not unlike our dear Hermione, eh?"

"Hmm ..." hummed Draco in agreement.

"Well then, let's see my adopted grandchildren then!" With that Mr Weasley gently pulled back the twins' blankets to get his first look at them.

"My word!" he gasped in awe. "They certainly are a handsome pair, aren't you my little treasures. You two must be very proud, they're beautiful children."

A large self-satisfied smirk split Draco's face and he directed it full force onto Potter and Weasley who were sitting together on one of the couches. Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron scowled in return.

"Alas, I don't think green suits you young man," said Mr Weasley suddenly, addressing Wyatt solemnly "no I think red is more your colour, or scarlet perhaps?"

Draco's eyebrows drew together in a frown. Something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle escaped Hermione, and she quickly glanced away covering her mouth - and possibly a smile - with her hand. Harry and Ron grinned stupidly at him before high fiving each other. _How sad _thought Draco in scorn.

"I'm only joking with you, lad" chuckled Mr Weasley. "Do you mind if I hold him?"

"Not at all, as long as you promise to keep the Slytherin jibes to a minimum" said Draco stiffly.

"Can do" said Mr Weasley brightly, bending down to lift Wyatt.

"Remarkable eyes for a newborn" he commented softly, a few minutes later, while Wyatt gazed up at him with his large dove-grey orbs making soft gurgling noises. "They seem to focus right on my face ... odd, since newborns aren't meant to see that well."

"They don't?" asked Ron genuinely amazed. Every parent in the room directed a groan of disbelief at the youngest Weasley son.

"Well excuse me for not having any parental experience!" he shot back indignantly.

"Come on Dad, stop hogging the babies, why do you think we came here today?!" said Ginny impatiently.

"Mum's cooking?" said Ron, earning himself a scathing look from his baby sister.

"This is not a game of pass the parcel, Ginerva Weasley" said Mr Weasley sternly. "Like I said before, we don't want to overwhelm the poor things ... or their parents for that matter."

Ginny huffed an irritated sigh sitting back against the sofa, crossing her arms over her pregnant belly.

"I've already held Wyatt" announced Teddy Lupin smugly.

"Hey, I'm six! Does that mean I get a turn at holding them?" asked Gabriel Weasley jealously, Bill's eldest son and the only child of the three to inherit his father's good looks and famous Weasley hair.

"'Ush Gabby, you will see ze babies lator" said Fleur.

"Mamma! Stop calling me that ... it's a girls' name!" admonished Gabriel, scowling cutely up at his mother.

"You know, dear, the boy does make a good po-" Bill stopped mid-sentence at the glacial expression his wife shot him "- Quiet now, Gabe, you know your mother loves that nickname."

"I see what's going on here" announced George Weasley, with the air of a person who had solved a great mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes himself.

"So do I, brother" agreed Fred. "It seems to me, that if we want to get within a foot of the prestigious Malfoy heirs, we'll have to transfigure ourselves into a pair of eight year olds,"

"Or take an ageing potion, so we can appear as old men like our dear old dad" finished George with a grin.

"Less of the old man remarks, you impertinent young scallywags!" cried Arthur, incensed.

"Well excuse me, Fred and George -" began Draco hotly "- but I didn't come here today to have a swarm of people hovering around me and my children for the entire visit - tends to get a tad claustrophobic after a while."

"Now Draco, don't get upset" said Molly quickly. "I'm sorry for the deception in getting you both here, but ... well, its just been so long since we've had everyone together in the same place - and well ... even though you have your own parents to care for you, and now a family of your own, I-I just wanted you to know, that no matter where your lives take you or what changes the future might have in store for all of us, that you and Hermione and your children will always be part of our family."

Merlin help him, no matter how much this situation annoyed him, there was no way Draco could stay angry at Molly Weasley, and especially not after a speech like that. Not when she had probably been one of the first people - except Hermione maybe - to have some faith in him. All those years ago, in the summer after his sixth year, when he had been dragged in front of Voldermort, so that he could redeem his family name, be branded with the darkest magic imaginable, and take his father's place among Voldermort's ranks. _Damn my name! _he had thought to himself, as the depraved half-blooded bastard had sneered down at him _and damn my father! I will NOT follow in his footsteps, I will NOT play underling to this piece of filth - I'd rather die! _It had been at that moment that Voldermort had attempted to invade Draco's mind, an attempt that Draco successfully blocked - thankful for the occlumency lessons his Godfather, Professor Snape, had drilled into him since he was eight years old. And in that moment an image had bloomed unbidden in his mind's eye, the image was a face one that belonged to Hermione Granger - the girl that had haunted Draco's fantasies and thoughts since the day he'd first clapped eyes on her, on the Hogwarts' express in their first year.

Time seemed to slow down in that instant, and he had clung to that vision of her like a lifeline - those large dark brown eyes, that frenzy of untamed curls, that smile of hers ... Gods how he had longed for years to have that smile directed towards him - and it was that vision that filled him with strength, that gave him the courage to defy Voldermort and refuse the Dark Mark, a decision that had very nearly cost him his life. But he had escaped, saved by Snape and he had joined the order only days later and - having no where else to go - been sent to stay with the Weasleys. He had expected them all to take some sort of revenge on him for everything he and his family had done to them or to shun him like some sort of leper. But they hadn't ... well, okay so Potter and the younger Weasleys had been somewhat distant with him those first few weeks, even cold at times but given their history up until then, he really couldn't blame them. As for Molly and Arthur however, they had welcomed Draco like he was some long lost son, who needed to be fed up, coddled and given the same affection as all the other children living in the burrow. Even Hermione, from the beginning, had resolved to put their differences behind them and made an effort to get to know him better. And Merlin he was grateful she had been good enough to give him that chance.

Draco shook his head slightly and returned to the present, just in time to see Hermione rushing forward and throwing her arms around Mrs Weasley giving her an affectionate hug. A small smile curved his lips.

"I'm sorry, Molly" he said quietly, looking sheepish and averting everyone's eyes. "I suppose I ... overreacted."

"Why don't you and Hermione take a seat? That way everyone could take it in turns to see the twins?" suggested Mrs Weasley.

"Very well" sighed Draco, which caused a large grin to split Hermione's face.

Her cheerful mood returning, Mrs Weasley glanced about the room noticing that all the spare chairs and sofas were occupied. She bustled toward Ron and Harry and smiled down at them sweetly - which made Ron immediately suspicious.

"Would you be a couple of dears and let Draco and Hermione have your seats?" she asked politely.

"What?!" cried Ron.

"Of course Molly" said Harry, getting to his feet at once.

"But that's not fair -!" began Ron hotly.

"Ronald! Don't be such a child and _move!_" said Mrs Weasley stiffly, her eyes flashing in warning.

"Humph!" said Ron, pushing his lanky body reluctantly off the sofa and sitting next to Harry on the floor. That left Ginny alone on the three-seater couch.

Trying unsuccessfully to hide his satisfied smirk, Draco took Wyatt from Arthur and sat himself down. Moments later Hermione joined him with Mira cradled in her arms, placing herself between him and Ginny. The young redhead instantly leaned over to coo at the baby girl.

"Why don't we let the children go first?" said Molly.

"ME!" cried Gabriel jumping to his feet "I want to go first!"

"Alright, calm down" chided Bill. Gabriel ignored him and rushed toward the couple, followed by his four year old brother Damien - a small boy with a mop of silvery blonde hair. With a sigh of annoyance, Bill handed his two year old daughter to Fleur and went after his sons, who were already climbing onto Draco and Hermione's laps (Damien with considerable more difficulty) and were in danger of squashing the very things they were so eager to see.

"Careful, careful!" snapped Bill anxiously, as Damien slipped off Hermione's knee and almost smacked his head against Mira's, thankfully Bill managed to catch the child in time, before he could give the infant a concussion.

"Gabriel! Écoutez votre père! Maintenant bien assis, avant de vous blesser les bébés." Fleur barked in her native tongue, making the six year old flinch.

"Sorry Mamma" replied Gabriel sheepishly, plonking his bottom down on Draco's thigh and peering curiously at baby Wyatt.

"It's alright, no harm done" said Hermione kindly, even though for a moment there her heart had skipped a beat or two.

Damien was now seated happily on her lap with his father, who was crouched at Hermione's knee, keeping a steady hand on the child's narrow back. Ever since his sister Adèle had returned from the hospital two years ago, little Damien had been fascinated by babies. When his parents took him out to places like the park, he often wandered off on his own so that he could peer into people's prams and have a nosy at the children inside - a habit that made his parents frantic with worry and had led to many long, boring lectures (the worst ones being in French). And now that Damien was four, he had went to his parents with a question that every child eventually poses, the all important 'Where do babies come from?' question. Unfortunately, they hadn't really answered his question, just given him the 'you'll-understand-when-you're-older' excuse. The same excuse they had given him when he had asked about the "funny noises" he had heard coming from their room late one night as he went to the bathroom for a pee. They had reacted very peculiarly when he had asked that particular question, Daddy had spat out his coffee all over the kitchen table and Mamma had turned bright red and went to wash the dishes, something she normally hated doing by hand.

"Where did the baby come from?" he asked, hoping that today might be the day he was old enough to learn the answer, after all he hadn't brought up this question since right before Christmas and that had been weeks and weeks ago.

"Erm, well ..." began Bill, blanching ever so slightly. "Y-you remember when Hermione had a ... had a-ah ... well when err ... she had a f-fat tummy?"

"Yes."

"W-well the b-babies came from there" stuttered Bill, hoping his son would accept that answer.

"Yes, but _how_ did they get in Ha-mee-on's tummy?" persisted Damien, struggling to pronounce Hermione's name.

An awkward silence fell over all the adults, as Damien and all the children old enough to understand the topic waited patiently for someone to explain.

"Err, I think I'll finish making lunch" said Mrs Weasley suddenly, looking suspiciously rosy-cheeked. "You all look famished!"

"Ah, I'll come help you, Molly my love, and while I'm at it I can fetch some chairs from the dining table so no-one has to sit on the floor!" said Arthur, and with that he and his wife fled the living room.

"Well?" prompted Damien.

"Draco put them in Hermione's tummy" stated Ron matter of factly.

"Oh!" said Damien surprised. Then his brows furrowed. "How did he do that?"

Silence once again. Draco felt heat rise to his face as Damien stared at him with large blue eyes. Then there was a strange snort and everyone turned to Ginny, who was trying desperately to contain a fit of laughter, biting down on her knuckles to stop it from escaping.

"Erm, well ... err you see ..." began Draco awkwardly.

"You know as fascinating as this conversation is, I think we've taken up enough of the twins' time. Why don't we go sit down and let someone else see them, hmm?" interrupted Bill, saving Draco from having to explain further.

"But I wanna know ho-!"

"-Yes I know you do, but we can talk about that later" said Bill firmly. "When there isn't an audience listening" he added in an undertone.

Picking up the now grumpy four year old and taking his brother by the hand, Bill flashed the Malfoys an embarrassed smile and returned to his seat.

"May I please see the babies now, father?" asked a small polite voice from the corner of the room, where Percy Weasley and his small family where gathered. Percy had reconciled with the other Weasleys shortly before the war ended, and had married his Hogwart's sweetheart Penelope Clearwater. Together they had a five year old son named Phillip, and another child on the way, due to be born in March.

"Certainly Phillip, it will be good practice for when your sister arrives" said Percy pompously, patting the child on the head.

Unlike his cousins Phillip kept himself composed, and walked calmly toward the new parents, climbing onto Draco's lap only _after_ the Slytherin had invited him to do so. Little Phillip had taken his looks from his mother's side of the family, he was a handsome boy with longish brown hair, a stubborn cowlick in the centre of his fringe that drove Percy crazy, dark reddish-brown eyes, and full pouting lips. It was hoped by all of his uncles, aunts and ... yes even his grandparents that he would not turn out to be an insufferable little swot like his father. Fred and George were already working hard to corrupt the child, sending him numerous items from their joke shop every birthday and Christmas. It was difficult to tell if they were having any effect on their young nephew, because knowing Percy, he would probably do everything in his power to cover up any misbehaviour from his son, as he was so desperate to prove that he had the perfect, obedient child - after all, a naughty child would reflect badly on himself.

"So Phil" said Draco, shortening the youngster's name, for in his opinion it sounded ridiculously grown-up for a child of five. "Are you looking forward to having one of these for your very own?" he asked indicating Wyatt.

"Yes" said Phillip shyly, "when my sister comes I'll have somebody to play with all the time, not just when my friends or cousins come over. Teddy said that brothers are better than sisters but I don't think that's true, cause his brother is always stealing his toys and breaking them and sisters play with girly toys which means my sister wouldn't want to take my toys - and besides, girls are more careful than boys and don't really break anything -"

"They do when you've made them angry and they start lobbing plates at your head" snickered George.

"Anyway -" continued Phillip, now with a small confused frown on his face. "- I think my stuff will be safer if we have a girl instead of a boy."

"That's a very logical way to look at it, Phillip" said Hermione amused.

"Thank you" said Phillip even though he didn't understand what 'logical' meant. With that he hopped off Draco's knee and returned to his mother and father.

Tonks, who up until then had been waiting very patiently, now saw her chance. But before her backside could even leave the sofa cushion, Fred and George (who had noticed her intention) shot off the coffee table they'd dragged over to one side and had been occupying and made a beeline for the Malfoys. Their wives, who were squeezed together on the couch with the Lupins, shared a look before rolling their eyes in unison. Tonks made a sound of annoyance before making herself comfortable again.

"As we happen to be the eldest set of twins in the room," said George.

"It seems only fitting that we and our children go next" said Fred.

The twins' joke shop Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, had gone from strength to strength in the past few years since the war, making the pair of them two of the richest wizards in Britain - a fact that irked Percy Weasley to no end. Over the years Fred and George had expanded their business beyond their Diagon Alley branch, starting first with a shop in Hogsmeade village and then opening shops all over Europe, including Paris, Milan, Amsterdam, Berlin, Dublin, and Madrid. It was their sister-in-law, Fleur, who had introduced them to their two wives: Monique and Chantal who also happened to be identical twins. Fleur had known Monique and Chantal DePaul since her second year at Beauxbatons, when they'd been first years asking for directions to their potions class. The twins' cheerful, easy-going manner had instantly made an impression on her, and the three girls had shared a close bond ever since. As Fleur had grown to know them over those first few weeks, she'd noticed the girls possessed a mischievous streak that often got them into trouble with their teachers - which is precisely why, years later, Fleur had introduced them to the Weasley twins.

Fred and George were immediately attracted to the feisty French twins - hardly surprisingly, considering they were two very beautiful women with tall, curvy figures, large sultry brown eyes, and very dark brown hair which Monique wore in a short stylish bob and Chantal wore long and straight down her back. But it took more than good looks to get into the hearts of the Weasley twins, and what really attracted them to Monique and Chantal was their fiery, impish personalities, and the strong sibling bond the sisters shared - a bond equal to the one Fred and George had. George and Monique started dating first, followed only weeks later by Fred and Chantal. Within a year the couples joined hands in a joint wedding ceremony and moved into a large London town house together, with separate apartments so that each couple could still maintain their privacy whilst still being close to their twin.

Although married to two very rich and successful businessmen, the twin sisters still insisted on earning their own income and had opened a small beauty parlour in Diagon Alley - two streets away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - which made a steady profit pandering to the needs of some of the richest and most glamorous witches in England. They had fallen pregnant at almost the same time, and then given birth within three days of each other, giving Fred and George a daughter each. Perhaps it was a sort of tribute to each other, or maybe it was just to confuse the hell out of everyone; but George decided to name his daughter Freda, and then three days later Fred named his daughter Georgina. Freda and Georgina were now three years old, they each had flaming red hair, but took mainly after their mothers making them almost identical with the exception of their eyes; Freda's were blue and Georgina's were brown. And much to Molly's dismay, it was glaringly obvious that the girls had inherited their fathers' high spirits, since they always managed to get up to mischief whenever they visited.

"Your Lordship ..." said Fred reverently, as he and George bowed dramatically before Draco and Hermione.

"Oh brother ..." muttered Draco, rolling his eyes.

"Forgive us, pretentious Lord and studious Lady; we are but your humble servants come to give our meek and modest blessings upon your -"

"Daddy! Stop being weird and lift me to see the baby!" demanded Freda crossly, frowning up at her father who still had his head bowed.

"Aww, spoilsport" replied George petulantly.

"Come on, while we're young!" said Georgina impatiently.

"Cheeky" said Fred, grinning with pride.

Without further ado the twins picked up their daughters and perched them on Draco and Hermione's laps, then kneeling at the couples' knees, they leaned over to inspect the 'prestigious Malfoy heirs'.

"Hmmm ..." hummed George.

"Mmmm ..." Fred seemed to say in reply, to everyone's bewilderment.

"What?!" snapped Draco, thoroughly fed up with the pair of them.

"Oh it's nothing really," said Fred "they're very cute and everything, and you must be very proud -"

"Congratulations by the way -" said George to Hermione, who smiled in return.

"It's just ... I'm a little confused ..." continued Fred, studying baby Wyatt with a puzzled frown.

"How so?" asked Draco hesitantly, suddenly gripped by panic. Had the twins noticed something odd about Wyatt? _Has Weasley blabbed after all?! Do they know about Wyatt's mark?!_

"Well ... don't ferrets normally have whiskers?" said George seriously.

"And little round ears?" asked Fred, his lips twitching.

Draco's panic was instantly replaced by righteous anger, and he aimed Fred and George with a murderous glare.

"Um ... does that have anything to do with Draco being turned into a ferret back when he was 'an annoying little git at school'?" asked Freda curiously.

Fred and George, who had been shaking with silent mirth, suddenly froze. Slowly they looked up at Draco, who was now directing a glare of cold fury upon them. The twins grinned a _it-was-just-a-joke-you-know-you-love-me-anyway-aren't-I-just-so-funny-and-adorable_ type of grin, which usually got them out of sticky situations with their wives. Draco however was not the sort of man to be swayed by such a grin. He narrowed his eyes and growled. Fred and George both gulped.

"Would ya look at that!" said Fred suddenly, glancing at his bare wrist.

"I think we've taken up enough of your time, come on girls!" said George hastily, getting to his feet and grabbing his daughter.

"OH! Dragon Bogies!" Georgina huffed angrily, as Fred scooped her up.

Hermione leaned over and kissed Draco softly on the cheek.

"It wasn't funny Hermione -!" he said quietly through gritted teeth, glaring at the twins' retreating backs.

"I know" she replied softly, so only he could hear. "But you know they meant no malice in it. Just calm do-"

"I am calm!" he hissed.

"Draco" she warned, now placing a hand on his tense arm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Alright ... okay. I'm fine ... I'm calm ... I'm ..." he said, inhaling and releasing another deep breath "calm."

She smiled and kissed him again; stroking his arm with her thumb and feeling the tension and anger drain from his body. It was at this moment that Tonks launched herself out of her seat and glared around the room, to make it known that she - and she alone - was going next! Then she marched purposely toward the Malfoys.

"Wotcher coz!" she said brightly to Draco, sitting herself on the arm of the couch. "Mind if I hold the little guy?" she asked.

"Not at all" said Draco happily, passing Wyatt into his cousin's arms.

"Well if Tonks gets to hold Wyatt, then I'm definitely holding Mira" said Ginny huffily. "Come on my precious, come to your auntie Ginny" she said sweetly to the infant. Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement and handed Mira to Ginny.

"So Draco, how's fatherhood sitting with you?" asked Tonks curiously, rocking Wyatt in her arms.

"Very well thank you" he replied courteously.

"Hmm ... is that true Hermione? Is my dear cousin pulling his weight?"

"Yes, Draco's a great Dad" said Hermione without hesitation, beaming up at her husband. A large grin split the Slytherin's face and he threw an arm around Hermione's shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

Once Tonks had had her fill of cooing over Wyatt and then Mira, her children and husband reacquainted themselves with the newborns, and when they were finally done it was the turn of the other Weasley wives to great the latest additions to the Malfoy line. It was just as Draco's patience was waning very thin, that Mr Weasley poked his through the door and announced lunch was ready. As so many people were visiting and it would be impossible to fit them _all_ around the dining room table, even if it had been warm enough to move the tables into the garden, it was decided that they would take lunch in the sitting room. Arthur had his sons carry in chairs from the kitchen, so that everyone could enjoy a proper seat. The spotlight was finally dragged away from the Malfoys as Molly Weasley passed platefuls of sandwiches and cups of tea and juice around the room. Everyone got busy with the task of catching up; the women swapped gossip, the men talked Quidditch, and the children abandoned their parents to play. Soon the room was filled with laughter and the buzz of conversation.

Draco's eyes kept shifting from Hermione - who was having an animated conversation with Ginny, Tonks and Chantal; the four of them sharing pregnancy stories - to Potter who had Wyatt cradled in his arms and was laughing uproariously to some story Fred and George were telling him - to Mr Weasley and Bill who had pulled chairs over to his couch to have a chat with him. He had Mira tucked against his shoulder, having rescued her from her exuberant aunt Ginny, and was slowly rubbing his hand up and down her minuscule back. Not that he would ever admit it to most of the people in this room but Draco felt almost as at home here as he did his own house, in fact he probably felt more comfortable at the Burrow than he did at Malfoy Manor or even the Granger's house. The Manor had never really been home; it was just a place he'd been born and raised in, and where he had lived when he wasn't at school. The Burrow was the first place where Draco felt like he was part of a family - a _proper_ family; without the strict rules of etiquette that kept him at arms length from his parents - the sort of family that hugged and kissed only a daily basis; that laughed and squabbled; that stood by each other through thick and thin. Draco was eternally grateful to Molly and Arthur for making him a part of their family - even though the majority of their children had the ability to drive him insane, but he supposed that's what it felt like to have siblings. Of course the warm sense of family here was all good and well but it wasn't the whole reason why he felt so comfortable at the Burrow, because it was here, in those last few weeks of summer before seventh year, that he and Hermione had struck up a friendship, and where the sparks of something much more had first been kindled.

Almost as if he were drawn by some magnetic force, Draco's eyes sought out his wife for the hundredth time in an hour. Draco's heart immediately started beating faster; she was laughing, her face was lit up by a dazzling smile and her eyes were sparkling with mirth and she looked absolutely breathtaking. Hermione seemed to sense his gaze for she suddenly locked eyes with him. Her smile stretched further across her face and the expression of mirth in her eyes was joined by a very tender one making his breath hitch. They gazed at each other for several minutes until the moment was shattered quite suddenly as something solid bounced off Draco's forehead.

"OUCH!" he cried, clapping a hand to where a large bump was already forming.

"Gabriel Weasley!" shrieked Molly angrily. "I've told you a hundred times, not to play with balls indoors!"

"It was an accident!" yelled Gabriel desperately.

"An accident that would not have occurred, if you paid me one jot of attention!" said Mrs Weasley shrilly.

"Are you alright Draco?" asked Arthur.

"Ow!" replied Draco irritably.

Small nimble fingers pried away his larger hand and gently prodded the bump. Draco looked up to see Hermione's face hovering above him, furrowed in concern. She swept his fringe out of his eyes to get a closer look. She glanced down at him and smirked.

"It's a good thing you have such a thick skull Draco," said Hermione cheekily. "Otherwise that ball might have done some damage."

"Sure, kick a man while he's down why don't you" replied Draco wryly.

"Aww baby" she whispered, still smirking. She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on the temple.

"Aww, ickle Dracokins needs Hermione to kiss his boo-boo all better" chortled George Weasley.

Fred and Ron both roared with laughter. Draco ducked his head under Hermione's arm and scowled at them. Then Hermione glanced over her shoulder and sent them a frigid glare, bringing the hysterics to an abrupt end.

"Shutting up now, 'Mione" muttered Fred apologetically.

A small delicate mew distracted the Malfoys and they looked down to see Mira scrunch her small pink face up in preparation, a split-second later the room was ringing with her impossibly loud wails.

"That kid sure does have a set of lungs on her!" said Ron loudly over the racket, his hands clamped firmly to his ears.

"I think somebody might be hungry" said Hermione, wincing.

"Pardon?" asked Draco, almost deafened by the din his daughter was making.

"I said, I think some-" began Hermione again.

"What?!" said Draco, his voice rising.

"I think she's hungry!" she answered, almost shouting now.

"You think she's what?!" yelled Draco.

"Oh for the love of Merlin's snow white arse!" complained Fred Weasley, clutching two cushions to his head.

Hermione growled in frustration. She pointed to Mira and then, making sure Draco's eyes were following, pointed to her chest. She raised one curved eyebrow and set her mouth in a grim line, waiting for him to understand. Draco's eyes moved from her face to her chest and back again, and then they slid to Mira and finally back to Hermione's chest.

"Oh!" he said, realisation dawning.

"Why don't you take her in the kitchen, dear," yelled Mrs Weasley, who had two fingers stuck in her ears. "You'll have some privacy in there."

"Oh there's no need for that," said George, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "We've all known each other for years, there's no reason to be modest Herm-" he broke off when Monique slapped the back of his head. "OW! What was that for?!"

"Do you want the list?" asked Monique, crossing her arms.

"Here, I'll take her" Hermione said to Draco, who was giving George a death-glare.

Draco passed Mira into Hermione's waiting arms, and still glaring at the Weasley twins rose to his feet and followed her to the kitchen. Hermione sat herself at one of the two remaining chairs at the kitchen table. Draco went to the pram, which Molly had parked at the wall by the door, and took out a small, thin blanket from the changing bag before joining Hermione at the table. He positioned his chair purposely so that his body was shielding Hermione and Mira from view; George's little comment had made him jealous and put him on edge. Hermione smiled a secret smile as she unbuttoned her red blouse. Draco had always been protective of her, especially when she had fallen pregnant, but recently she had noticed that he seemed overly so whenever she was breastfeeding. Several times while she'd been nursing the twins she had caught Draco hovering around her. He really was the most adorable man she'd ever met. It was a comfort to know that he worried about something as silly as protecting her modesty. She pulled open her blouse and unhooked the cup of her nursing bra and positioned Mira at her breast, gasping slightly as the infant latched onto her nipple. Breastfeeding was still a strange sensation that Hermione was adjusting to.

"Here you go, love" said Draco softly, draping the small blanket across Hermione's shoulder, covering her exposed breast and Mira's face.

"Thank you" murmured Hermione, cradling her daughter more securely in her arms.

Draco leaned his elbows on his knees and let himself get caught in the moment. He listened as his wife hummed a soft, lilting lullaby under her breath, a tender, tranquil expression stealing over her face like it always did when she was breastfeeding. He always felt like he was intruding when he watched her do this, this was such a personal, sacred moment between mother and child - something he would never be able to adequately understand - but Draco didn't have the strength to tear himself away and leave them alone. Hermione just looked so vulnerable like this, with her attention centred on either Wyatt or Mira that it made Draco so inexplicably overprotective. There was also that wonderful feeling of awe he got as he watched her nourishing his children. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Draco leaned forward and removed the blanket and set it on Hermione's knee. He slide off Mira's cap and lightly stroked his thumb against her soft, silky white-blonde hair.

"Pretty baby" he whispered tenderly. . He glanced up at Hermione again, his heart speeding up slightly at the stunning smile she was giving him.

His mouth twisted in a roguish smirk as a sudden idea occurred to him. Draco dipped his head and pressed a hot, sensual kiss to Hermione's breastbone. He heard Hermione gasp lightly above him. He rubbed his nose against the same spot he'd kissed, inhaling her sweet perfumed scent. Moving lower down her chest Draco kissed her again, this time tasting her skin with the tip of his tongue. Hermione's pulse began to race, and her breathing became slightly erratic. Moving lower still Draco kissed Hermione again, his lips lingering longer against her skin. His right hand had slowly journeyed from Hermione's denim clad thigh, to her hip, slipping under her red blouse to her stomach, finally rising higher to cup her left breast, squeezing it lightly. Satisfied with the effect he was having on his wife, Draco moved in to kiss her breast but stopped abruptly when they both heard a commotion from the living room. Draco and Hermione jumped apart, like a pair of guilty teenagers caught snogging in an abandoned classroom by Mr Filch. Draco grabbed the blanket and hastily covered Hermione back up; rearranging his features in what he hoped was an innocent expression just as the kitchen door burst open.

Shrieking and shouting, Gabriel, Romulus, Damien and Phillip barged into the room. A moment later they were followed by Teddy, who was struggling with three year old Freda Weasley. She had somehow clambered onto his shoulders, locking her legs around his neck, and appeared to be trying to yank his bright blue hair out by the roots. Freda's little mouth was set in a rather frightening snarl, her brow was furrowed in an angry frown and her pigtails had been knocked askew.

"Arrgh! Help! I've got a Cling-On!" rasped Teddy.

Gabriel and Phillip rushed forward to help their friend, and attempted to wrestle Freda off the eight year old with little success.

"Let us join you're club!" demanded Freda, yanking Teddy's head backwards.

"NEVER!" gasped Teddy. "Girls – Are – Stupid!" he wheezed.

"So be it then!" growled Freda, bashing Gabriel on the head with her chubby fist.

The door flew open again and Echo and Georgina rushed into the kitchen.

"HIIIIIIIIIEEEEEYYAAHH!!" shrieked Georgina, as she leaped into the air and pounced on Gabriel, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground.

Phillip, who had been giggling uncontrollably up until now, seemed to decide his friends were done for, because he stopped wrestling with little Freda and backed off. Face alight with laughter he called to the other boys:

"Quick, let's get out of here!"

He then ran towards the back door, threw it open and rushed outside into the garden, followed by Damien and Romulus.

"Quick, get after them!" shouted Freda.

"Don't let them get away!" cried Georgina, who now had Gabriel in a headlock.

Echo gave the girls a quick salute and took after the three remaining boys. Draco who had been thinking furiously about turnips, cricket, broomsticks and other topics unrelated to Hermione or her lovely assets for the past several minutes, suddenly looked up at his wife with a foreboding expression.

"Please tell me our children won't turn out like that?"

"I certainly hope not" returned Hermione with an amused smile.

"Freda Linette Weasley!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley sharply, freezing at the doorway. "Unhand Teddy this _instant!_"

"Not until he admits that all boys are _booger heads!_" she grunted, as Teddy yanked hard on one of her pig tails in an attempt to free himself.

"You're going to choke him! Let go immediately!" screamed Mrs Weasley, grabbing hold of the fiery girl and hauling her off Teddy, however Freda maintained her death-grip on the boy's hair.

"Arrgh! Let go, you freak!" cried Teddy.

"Georgina! Get off your cousin NOW! Arthur, get in - _don't you dare kick me young lady_ - ARTHUR! GET IN HERE AND HELP ME AT ONCE!!!"

Draco was tempted to go to Molly's aid himself, but that would have left Hermione unguarded - _what a cowardly excuse_ admonished his inner Slytherin scathingly - not something he was willing to do, and besides he'd rather not lose any fingers while trying to break up a scuffle involving two extremely volatile three year olds.

"Good gracious!" gasped Mr Weasley, his eyes wide as saucers. "Freda, you little devil, let go of Teddy's hair at once! George! George get in here for pity sake and control your _daughter!_" he yelled angrily, trying to untangle poor Teddy's hair from Freda's clinging fingers.

"Bring Fred with you!" bellowed Molly furiously; craning her neck back to avoid being kicked in the face by Freda's thrashing legs. "Oh! They're as wild as alley cats!"

-----------------------------------------


	9. Chapter 8 Part Two

**Chapter Eight (part two)**

Randall climbed slowly and stiffly up a narrow, decaying spiral staircase, pulling his bent and withered body up by an old rope attached to the wall. In his free hand he held his lit wand aloft; this was the only source of light Randall had to guide him up the pitch-black staircase, so despite his exhaustion he kept his weary gaze trained on the cracked, crumbling and slippery steps. After what seemed like an age he reached a door and let himself into the small room inside. He flicked his wand at a fireplace against the wall and flames burst to life in the small grate. He stood in front of the fire for several minutes, warming his old bones, before turning away and shuffling over to the narrow bed on the other side of the modest sized room. With a loud relieved sigh Randall eased himself onto the thin mattress of the bed. Randall's room was at the top of a small North-eastern tower. The room was sparse to say the least; containing what few personal objects Randall possessed. Feeling as though his eyelids were weighed down with lead the old seer glanced listlessly out the thin window; as usual he saw no moon, nor any stars shining above where they should be - there was just the inky-black sky, tinted an ugly, unnatural yellow near the horizon (but he was too high up to see that). He lay down on the bed, grateful his duties were over for at least another twelve hours or so. He closed his tired eyes and did what he did every night; thought very hard and tried to picture home.

Once again the tired, faded image of a little stone cottage came to his mind's eye; this quaint humble little abode stood on the outskirts of a tiny little village, which was surrounded by green fields and rolling hills. It was here, in this quiet little paradise, where Randall had spent his childhood; where he had grown into a man; where he'd wooed the Butcher's pretty daughter, and won her affections. Randall had spent his happiest years in that sleepy little village, that is, until Galen's best trained Trackers captured him and brought him to the jagged black coasts, and dark, barren wastelands of Cimmeria. On that day, Randall was robbed of many things: his freedom, his sweetheart, the chance of a normal happy life, the sun, and most importantly the memories of the people and places he cherished so much. His memories were tampered with beyond repair; broken and distorted until he was left with nothing but a scant collection of hazy images. The names of his parents, his family and friends, his neighbours, his village, his country, even the name of the girl he loved had all been obliterated from his mind.

It was Randall's gift of Sight that had caused Galen to go to such lengths to track him down and ensure he had no means of escape; a gift which ironically did not present itself until _after_ Randall had been captured (if it had he would have seen them coming and managed to escape). Of course it had all been planned that way, the previous seer had told Galen where to find Randall and when to strike, so they could intercept him before he inherited his talents. A seer was an invaluable thing to have about to the Cimmerii, particularly to Galen - who at that time was still awaiting the prophecy of the boy to fulfil itself - unfortunately, due to the dark rituals, and ceremonies the Cimmerii practiced, and the strict breeding programs the master enforced; the clan had unwittingly bred the gift of foresight out of their bloodlines.

The Cimmerii valued power above all things; in fact it was almost an obsession to them. Only witches and wizards with naturally potent magic running in their veins were allowed to reproduce within the tribe and to ensure inbreeding didn't become an issue, outsiders were often kidnapped from their homes like Randall and brought to the dark shores of Cimmeria. Blood purity didn't matter to them so those that were taken could either be pureblood, half-blood, Muggleborn or even muggle; so long as they were fit and healthy they were adequate. This ancient obsession had uncovered powers other wizards could only dream about; magic so dark that it should have remained shrouded in mystery. Through their dark occults the ancient Cimmerii learned of a way to lengthen their lives and bestow upon them an almost immortal state of existence, but for this life to be possible one must make a sacrifice - a terrible and sacrilegious sacrifice - which would have dire consequences upon the entire Cimmerii race. According to their ancient scripts and legends the Gods were so angered that they cursed the Cimmerii for their sins, condemning them and their descendants to live in eternal darkness and banished them from the spirit realm; so that even in death there would be no relief from the darkness or their punishment.

From that day on the sun had not shone on the country of Cimmeria, and the people of this land had become highly allergic to sunlight; should they be exposed to the sun for even a second their bodies would burst into flame and they would burn to death. The point of the curse was to make the Cimmerii suffer and to make that suffering endure, that is why, despite the lack of natural light, the Cimmerii were able to force enough food to grow, and enough livestock to sufficiently survive so they didn't all starve to death. Cimmeria had become like a separate world, one in which outsiders were not meant to survive in; from the moment people like Randall ate the food and drank the water they were doomed. The darkness crept into their very souls making them weak and ill, eventually killing them. For breeding stock this didn't matter; they just had to survive long enough to produce more children. But for a seer, such as Randall, steps had to be taken to ensure he lived for as long as he was needed. Unicorn blood had let Randall live a long and miserable life. He'd been force fed several doses in the last ninety-eight years but unicorn blood was not a permanent fix; it couldn't keep a person alive forever, nor could it keep them from ageing. Randall was quickly running out of time. Once Galen had the boy he would no longer need a seer because he would have something far more powerful and valuable. Once the boy was one of them there would be no reason to keep Randall alive, his purpose would be fulfilled and he would finally be free.

As Randall finally slipped off to sleep he couldn't help but hope that all this would be over soon so that he could finally be released from this God-awful life.

* * *

Draco had to admit that Molly Weasley could be quite cunningly manipulative when she put her mind to it. He had only intended this visit to last an hour or two at most; yet somehow Molly had managed to get him and Hermione to stay for dinner, and then dessert (using his weakness for all things chocolate against him by presenting them with a delicious chocolate gateau), and then coffee. This meant several hours later, the Malfoys were still to be found in the Weasleys' living room. Molly seemed quite determined to hold on to them for a while longer, which Draco found slightly annoying since she had no qualms letting the Lupins leave before dinner, then Fred and George and their families before dessert (since this was to be Freda and Georgina's punishment), Bill and Fleur left not long after, closely followed by Percy and his family and then Ron who wanted to get back to his girlfriend Lavender Brown. This just left the Potters, who lived close by to the Burrow and therefore had no problem staying late. As much as Draco loved the Burrow, he preferred his own house more. Besides which he was tired and wanted an early night, and he could tell just by looking at her that Hermione was exhausted as well; she was just too damned polite to admit it. He hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation so was a little confused when Molly suddenly chirped in excitement:

"I'd be happy to show you what to do, dear!"

Bewildered by this Draco glanced at Hermione who was wearing her 'eager-to-learn-new-things expression' as he'd christened it. This only served to confuse him more. What exactly did she want Mrs Weasley to teach her?

"Oh but the mediwitch said that someone would be sent to our house to check on the twins and to show us how –" said Hermione, but Mrs Weasley cut across her before she could finish.

"Pfft!" she snorted disdainfully. "What do any of those people know about babies?! Half of those so-called _experts_ that they send out to new parents have never even had children of their own! No trust me, Hermione dear, what you need is someone with _real_ experience to show you how it's done!" she finished with a determined nod of her head.

"Oh. Alright, as long as you don't mind" said Hermione beaming.

"Not at all, pet, not at all" replied Molly cheerfully, getting to her feet.

"I'm sorry," Draco burst out, feeling more confused than ever. "But, what's going on? I've not been paying attention."

"Molly's going to show us how to bath the twins" explained Hermione happily.

"Oh" said Draco. "_What?_"

"Not to worry, dear, after seven children and eight grandchildren I think I know what I'm doing" Molly reassured him brightly. "Now, I think the old baby bath is in that shed of yours, Arthur."

"Oh mum! You can't use that mouldy old thing!" objected Ginny. "Why don't we lend you the new bath we just bought for the baby?" she asked, stroking her swollen stomach affectionately. "Harry can apparate to our house, get it and be back in five minutes?"

"What, you mean that newfangled, _plastic_ thing you were telling me about?" asked Molly, a slightly disapproving tone in her voice.

"Yeah! It's much more hygienic!" said Ginny enthusiastically.

"Very well then" Molly sighed.

"Won't be long" Harry said, giving Ginny a peck on the cheek before leaving the room so he could apparate in the garden.

Draco was still reeling over the idea of bathing the twins for the first time. It was something both he and Hermione had been nervous about, and put off; hoping someone from the hospital would turn up and show them what to do. It was also another excuse, he realised with an internal groan, for Mrs Weasley to keep him and his wife at the Burrow for a little longer. _Merlin this had better not take long, I just want to go home now!_ Potter, thankfully, didn't take his time fetching the small, blue plastic bathtub and returned a few minutes later. Molly laid down towels on the floor and set the bath atop of them, and then filled it with warm water. Molly, Draco and Hermione sat themselves on the floor around the bath, while Ginny and Harry watched curiously from the couch and Mr Weasley dozed in an armchair. Hermione lay Mira down on another towel and began to undress her. Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable about his daughter being undressed like this with so many people watching, and it took some considerable effort on his part not to scoop her into his arms and rush her from the room, it just felt wrong somehow even though she was a baby and this was completely innocent and he was surrounded by people he trusted. Following Molly's instructions Hermione picked up Mira and lowered her gently into the water. Looking slightly surprised and crooning softly Mira waved her little arms and thrashed her legs splashing the water as she did so. She seemed to enjoy the sensation of the warm water and let out a stream of happy gurgling sounds as she continued to splash the water with her arms and legs. Despite himself Draco grinned.

"That's it, Hermione, now support her head with your right hand and let her body float a little, don't be nervous, there you go. Now with your left hand take some handfuls of water and pour it over her body, very good. See not so hard, is it?" said Molly, beaming. "And she's such a good girl too, aren't you precious?"

After thoroughly enjoying herself Mira was lifted from the tub - clean and fragrant - and laid back down on the floor to be gently towel dried by Hermione. Now it was Draco's turn to bathe Wyatt. Molly flicked her wand at the bath so that the murky soapy water was replaced with fresh, warm water. Feeling a little apprehensive Draco lowered his tiny son into the water; sensing almost at once that something was wrong. Wyatt's reaction was the complete opposite of his sister's. Draco saw his son's eyes - which a moment before had been gazing serenely at the ceiling - widen in fear, and then he felt Wyatt go very still. His arms and legs did not splash about; instead he curled his body into a foetal position. He screwed up his little face, which had flushed a dark pink, and let out an ear-piercing wail. Mr Weasley woke with a jolt. Wyatt crying was in itself unusual since Draco and Hermione had noticed that their son very rarely cried, mostly he left that job to his sister. And never had Draco heard the infant cry quite like this, at the top of lungs, and with his little body quaking with the force of every impossibly loud scream. Hermione's head had jerked round in alarm. The Slytherin instantly panicked; thinking he had done something wrong. He looked to Molly for guidance.

"Now don't panic, Draco, not all babies like their first bath, this is perfectly normal" she said loudly over the racket.

"Are you sure?! I've never seen him this worked up!" said Draco anxiously.

"Yes dear, just reassure him a bit, he'll settle down soon enough."

"Ssh, it's alright Wyatt. Daddy's got you, there's nothing to be afraid of" said Draco soothingly, stroking one of Wyatt's little arms.

But Wyatt seemed to think there was and showed no sign of calming down. His piercing wails continued to fill the room, making everyone wince. Unable to stand it any longer Draco lifted his baby out of the bath and held Wyatt's shivering little body securely against his chest. The moment the baby was safely out of the water every light in the room began to flicker. And to Draco's utter bewilderment he felt a curious tingling energy radiating from his son's miniscule form. Before he could even begin to fathom what was going on there was a sudden flash of light and the little blue bathtub soared into the air and launched itself at Arthur, who yelled in fright and threw himself onto the floor, before the bath smashed into the wall splashing water everywhere. Wyatt's wails died down immediately and a shocked silence fell over the room. Draco glanced down at his baby son who gazed back at him with his beautiful grey eyes, apparently content once more. The strange energy that Draco had felt had vanished with Wyatt's distress. With a sinking feeling in his stomach the Slytherin turned to his wife; she stared back at him looking as frightened as he felt.

"What just happened?!" asked Mr Weasley at length, his voice trembling.

"It was almost as if ... but he couldn't possibly ... it's impossible ..." murmured Mrs Weasley, as her stunned face turned towards Draco and her gaze fell upon Wyatt.

Draco was suddenly aware that everyone's attention was now focussed on the baby in his arms. He felt his pulse accelerate as his useless brain failed to think of some excuse. He needed something, _anything_, to make them stop staring at his child! _I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it!_ They were going to work it out, Arthur and Molly, they were going to put two and two together and realise his baby bore a _mark_. Then what would happen? What would they do with such information?

"Draco?" said Hermione timidly.

Draco's face instantly snapped back to his wife's gaze. There was something in her voice that made him suspicious, something in her tone that suggested she was on the verge of confessing everything. He glared back at her his meaning perfectly clear 'don't you dare!' Hermione bit her lip and quickly glanced at Mrs Weasley then back at him, clearly debating what to do in her head. _Don't Hermione! Please don't, please let us go home and maybe they'll just forget all about it! Please don't tell them!_

"Molly," said Hermione, her decision made.

"_Hermione!_" barked Draco warningly.

"Oh Draco, please just trust me" she moaned pleadingly.

"_Don't do this!_"

"Molly ... its Wyatt ... h-he has a ... a mark" Hermione stammered, avoiding Draco's furious glare.

"A _mark!_" gasped Molly.

"A mark" repeated Arthur.

"I-it's really not that big a deal .... i-is it mum?" said Ginny, trying and failing to reassure the Malfoys.

"Ron said it meant he was cursed" said Hermione tremulously. "But that can't be true, can it? He's just an innocent little baby ... it doesn't mean anything. It's just a birthmark."

"It's much more than that, Hermione" said Mr Weasley seriously.

Overcome with irrational panic, anger and betrayal and willing to protect his son at any cost Draco jumped to his feet and started to back away from the others, holding Wyatt protectively against his chest. Hermione's pale face followed him as he backed towards the kitchen door and her eyes filled with tears.

"Draco –!"

"_How could you?_ Your own son! I told you not to tell anyone, why couldn't you have just listened to me?" he said, his voice shaking with anger and fear.

"Please I know you're scared but –"

"That is not all I'm feeling right now!" he snarled.

"Now Draco just calm down" said Arthur evenly.

"Don't tell me what to do! I swear ... if you tell _anyone_ ..."

"You'll what, hex me?" retorted Arthur a little angrily. "How long have we known each other Draco? I took you into my home when you had nowhere else to go! I treated you, the son of a convicted Death-eater and a man I despised, with respect and kindness. You are like another son to me, as Hermione is like another daughter. That makes you and your children part of our family! Do you honestly think I would betray you in such a way?!"

Draco felt most of his anger ebb away but he was still afraid. The thought of losing Wyatt terrified him and he wanted so desperately to protect him. He wanted so desperately to believe Arthur was sincere but he couldn't help feeling a little niggling of doubt; it just seemed too good to be true that Arthur was reacting precisely the way Hermione had predicted. Besides, Molly was yet to say anything else.

"I'm sorry" he said shakily. "I was just so worried about how you might react, especially after the way Wea-Ron took it. I don't want the ministry finding out about him, I don't want his name down on a register. I don't trust them!"

"Well, they certainly won't learn about his nature from us!" said Molly stoutly, standing at last. "I never did hold much weight with those nonsense stories our grandparents handed down to us! Cursed indeed! What on earth did our ancestors know about it?! As far as I'm concerned if he's got a mark then it means he's special, not something to be feared and not someone the Ministry need concern themselves about!"

"Quite right, Molly my love, and if those stories have an ounce of truth in them then Wyatt is indeed going to be a very special boy, with unique powers which I suspect we've just seen first hand. And Draco, if you still doubt me then I'll happily make an Unbreakable Vow to prove I'm trustworthy."

Draco felt like a weight had lifted from his chest. A wave of relief washed over him as it sank in that he could trust the Weasley's with Wyatt's secret. "That won't be necessary, Arthur, just hearing you say that makes me feel much better."

Molly approached him cautiously and handed him a towel to wrap around Wyatt. He gave her a faint smile in thanks, which she returned with a tender one of her own.

"Would you mind if I took a look at this mark, Draco?" asked Arthur as cautiously as his wife had approached the young father.

"Alright" said Draco, taking a calming breath.

Mr Weasley slowly walked towards Draco, who was obviously still a little jumpy. He pulled a reassuring smile onto his thin face, as he approached the young father. Draco uncurled Wyatt's small fist so that Arthur could clearly make out the rust-coloured spiral on his palm.

"Fascinating" said Arthur in an awed voice. "It's a spiral, how very unusual. According to the stories the marks are supposed to take the shape of ancient runes. That must be wrong."

"So let me get this straight" said Harry suddenly, "Wyatt's the one who threw the bath across the room?"

"Duh!" exclaimed Ginny disdainfully.

* * *

One hour later the Malfoys returned to the entrance hall of their home with a loud crack. Their goodbye with the Potters and Weasleys had been very awkward indeed and they hadn't spoken a word to each other since before they'd disapparated from the Weasley's garden. There was a moment where they just stood there where they had just reappeared; Hermione gripping fiercely to the handle of the pram and Draco holding both the pram and his wife. Hermione had sensed his tension the second he had wrapped his arm around her waist in the darkened garden; there was nothing tender in his touch, he was cold and distant. She opened her mouth to speak and with no idea what to say but next moment Draco had released her and was striding away from her towards his study.

"Draco!" she yelled after him, her voice cracking with emotion.

He ignored her and kept walking away, a few seconds later she heard a door slam. Of course she had known that he would be upset with her when she'd decided to tell the Weasleys about Wyatt's birthmark but she had never imagined that his reaction would be this explosive. There had been a moment in the Burrow where Hermione had feared that Draco would pull his wand out on Mr Weasley. Brushing away angry tears she went after him. _If he thinks he can shut me out then he is mistaken!_

"Draco Malfoy, OPEN THIS DOOR!" she yelled, pounding her fist against the wood of the door to his study.

"Piss off!" he returned angrily, his voice muffled slightly.

"You are being _ridiculous!_" she screamed back, more tears sliding down her face. "I understand that you're angry but that's no reason –!"

She leapt back in fright as Draco threw open the door and filled the doorframe with his tall form, looking positively livid. A little scared Hermione shrank back against the wall.

"_Angry?_ YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW!" he screamed, his voice electric with cold fury. "Have you ANY idea what _you_ did tonight?!"

"YES! I was confiding in some of my oldest friends!" Hermione yelled back, refusing to be intimidated by his rage.

"YOU DELIBERATELY PUT OUR SON AT RISK!" screamed Draco irately; ignoring Hermione's shocked gasp and the flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"What else was I supposed to do? They'd just seen a bath throw itself across the room; it's not like we could possibly deny it! I wasn't going to lie about something so important! It doesn't even matter any more because their fine with it, just like I told –!"

"_That's not the point!_" he roared, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and giving her a shake. "Things could have turned out completely differently and then where would we be?!" he demanded, shaking her again and making her wince. "You were not raised in my world! You don't know how deep our superstitions can go - so there's no way we could have known how the Weasleys would react!"

"Of course, I'm just a stupid Muggleborn," Hermione sneered sarcastically, twisting in Draco's strong grip. "How could _I_, possibly understand?!"

"Don't fucking start with that! You're always so bloody quick to jump to the defensive when it comes to the difference in our heritage! How many times are you going to make me apologize for the past?! What else do I have to do to prove _I'm not like that anymore?!_ The point is we were raised in different worlds. Brought up with different beliefs and taught to fear different things; I tried to explain that to you but you just wouldn't listen, would you?!"

With that he released her with a look of disgust and swung around; slamming the door behind him once more. Hermione stood motionless for several minutes; too shocked to move. Then a sob forced its way up her throat and out of her mouth and she burst into tears.

"FINE!" she yelled her voice breaking, slamming her hands against the closed door. "LOCK YOURSELF AWAY, see if I care!" and sobbing uncontrollably she hurried away.

Draco, who was slumped against the other side of the door and had felt the force of her anger vibrate through his spine, smacked his head against the wood and screwed his eyes shut.

"Fucking fantastic, Malfoy!" he swore softly to himself. "You handled that marvellously you bloody wanker!"

Hissing in frustration he slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to go after her and apologize; he really had blown his top and gone too far but he knew if he went now when everything was still raw between them she would likely hex his balls off - which he probably deserved of course. Besides, Draco was still hurting and angry too and didn't feel like grovelling just yet. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned his chin against his fists. As much as Draco was angry with Hermione, he was angrier with himself; he had lashed out in fear and in doing so he had hurt Hermione, he had frightened her and worse of all he had made her cry. Draco hated upsetting her, but sometimes he couldn't keep his own stupid mouth shut. He sat there for several minutes trying to steady his breathing. He jumped, startled, when a piercing wail rang through the house. Wyatt was crying again.

* * *

It was just after midnight and Hermione was in the nursery with the twins, rocking Wyatt in her arms who hadn't stopped crying once in the last two hours; which was very unlike him. She had tried everything she could think of to calm him but Wyatt refused to settle. Hermione was utterly exhausted and at her wits end. Despite the noise that had filled the house these last two hours Draco had yet to emerge from his study to find out what was wrong with his son. A fact Hermione was furious about. _How dare he sulk in his God-damned study when I'm up here caring for the twins completely on my own!_

"Please, sweetie" she whispered desperately to her tiny son "You really need to go to sleep now and so does Mummy. Oh please Wyatt, I don't know what to do!"

"Let me see him."

Hermione gasped in fright and spun around to find Draco staring at her from the doorway. "I don't need your help!" she snapped at him.

"Then why haven't you stopped him crying then?" he retorted bitingly, walking into the room. "Give him to me."

"Fine, since you're such an expert!" she hissed, glaring daggers at him while handing Wyatt carefully into Draco's arms.

Draco settled the baby boy against his shoulder and rubbed small circles against Wyatt's back. He walked toward the window, ignoring Hermione's frigid glare.

"Hush, little man, Daddy's got you ... sssh ... it's alright now, I'm here I've got you ... no need to cry anymore ..."

To Hermione's utter astonishment and outrage Wyatt's wails slowly died away until he was completely silent. Draco continued to whisper to him and stroke his back soothingly until the baby finally drifted off to sleep. Feeling irrationally inferior and knowing she couldn't bear to see Draco's gloating face Hermione spun on her heel and rushed from the room. Draco turned in time to see her mane of curly hair whip out the door and heaved a regretful sigh. He settled Wyatt into his crib and tucked a blanket around him before leaving to search for her. Hermione was to be found in the kitchen, noisily washing dishes, which Draco knew for a fact were perfectly clean already since he'd washed them himself after breakfast. She had changed out of her red blouse and jeans and was wearing her white silk dressing gown. Her hair was wilder than usual and he suspected she'd been running her hands through it, like she usually did when she was stressed.

"Hermione" he began tentatively, noticing her back stiffen in response.

"Go away!" she snapped, sounding like she had a bad head-cold.

"No" he said firmly, walking further into the kitchen. "I want to apologize."

"Well I don't want to hear it!"

"Please Hermione, I'm so sorry ... I should never have taken my temper out on you, I'm an idiot okay? I just got scared."

"I don't care about your temper ... you're a grown adult, Malfoy, you should be able to control yourself better" she said quietly.

Wincing when she called him by their surname Draco went on desperately: "I know I should! I just panicked when you told them; I was afraid they would reject us, reject Wyatt. And the thought of losing him, it petrifies me!"

She was silent for a few minutes and then: "You really hurt me, Draco" and it was obvious from her voice that she was crying again. Draco's heart gave a painful pang as his insides burned with guilt.

"I know I did, baby, I'm so sorry! Please don't cry, Mina, you know I hate it when you cry ... please Mina I'm sorry" he whispered emotionally, calling her by his private nickname that he rarely spoke outside of the bedroom. He was standing directly behind her now. He placed his hands on her slim shoulders and ran them down her arms but this action caused her to flinch and hiss.

"What is it?" he asked concerned.

"It's nothing" she muttered.

But an image had just flashed horribly in his minds' eye and with a growing sense of horror Draco pulled up the sleeve of Hermione's morning gown until a dark bruise on her upper arm was revealed. He felt bile rise in his throat as his body flushed with shame.

"Oh Gods!" he gasped. "I did that!"

In shock he felt his body sway a little as he continued to star transfixed at the small bruise. Shame and remorse were spreading like an inferno through every nerve in his body. He was nauseous and furious with himself. He felt disgusted that he had lost control of his temper and allowed himself to leave a mark on the woman he loved.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry, you have to believe me, Mina ... I didn't mean to, I would never - not on purpose, you know I wouldn't ... please forgive me!" he pleaded frantically.

At last she turned around to face him; her eyes swimming with tears. He searched her face for any trace of fear or hate and was relieved when he found none. "I know you didn't mean it Draco" she whispered pressing her body against his Draco's, and twining her arms around his waist. Flooded with gratitude and adoration Draco enveloped her in his embrace. "You were right though, I shouldn't have blurted Wyatt's secret out like that, it was stupid, I'm sorry. And I forgive you ... as long as you forgive me?"

Draco's response was a long passionate kiss which left them both panting. He leaned his forehead against hers, inhaling her mouth-watering scent. "Draco, I'm so tired" she whispered so softly that he had to strain to hear her voice.

"Put your hands on my shoulders" he instructed her quietly.

Too tired to question him, Hermione complied and then gasped as he picked her up like she was a child. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung more securely to his shoulders. Draco swayed again, this time from the powerful rush of arousal he felt by this simple yet intimate action. Hermione seemed to sense his desire since she forced his chin up and holding his face in her slender hands she kissed him again; long and slow, drawing a longing groan from his throat. Pressing hungry kisses to her long neck and collar bone Draco clumsily manoeuvred them out of the kitchen and precariously up the stairs until they reached their bedroom. Laying her down on the bed he climbed on top of her, grinding his pelvis intimately against her sex eliciting a moan from Hermione. She wrapped her legs around his waist once more granting him better access. In a frenzy he kissed a trail down her jaw and neck while he rocked his hips urgently against her. Whimpering Hermione clawed at his T-shirt desperate to feel his pale smooth skin. Lifting his head from her shoulder Draco swooped down again and crushed his mouth against Hermione's lips, robbing her of all the air in her lungs, as his tongue invaded her mouth.

"I wish I could show you just how sorry I am!" he gasped pulling away with difficulty, his voice heavy with desire and longing.

"God so do I" groaned Hermione, recalling with regret that she wasn't fully healed yet for them to allow this to go any further.

Panting Draco buried his face against her shoulder and tried to steady his erratic heartbeat and the restless thrusting of his hips while Hermione stroked his hair. After several minutes he sat up and gazed down at her flushed face, a lopsided grin twisting his mouth.

"I think I better have a quick shower before bed" he sighed, leaning down and kissing her on the nose.

"Yes ... good idea."

* * *

"Lord Galen?"

"What is it now, Randall?" asked Galen impatiently, as his bright eyes stared moodily into the fireplace.

"The Trackers have returned, sir" explained the seer. "There is a woman with them."

"Well show them in then, quickly!" Galen ordered, leaping to his feet.

Randall vanished behind the door at once and returned a few minutes later followed by two tall wizards; one was thin and pale with gold hair and beard, the other was burly with dark red hair and a stubbly chin, both of them had vivid purple eyes. Between them they were dragging a young woman with long dark hair and large brown eyes; she was struggling against them with all her might. Galen had been expecting the shape-shifter, Merrigan, but the Trio had described her as a 'hag' which this slip of girl certainly wasn't. Galen's Trackers dragged her before the fireplace and threw her unceremoniously to floor at Galen's feet. He glared down at her his fiery eyes alight with scepticism.

"The sorceress, Merrigan, my lord" said the blonde wizard as he and his companion bowed before their master.

"Indeed?" drawled Galen disbelievingly.

"She has changed her image many times since we first tracked in a village thirty miles from here; _this_ is merely her latest disguise" explained the red-haired wizard.

"Is it now? On your feet woman!" he ordered.

The woman glared up at him in defiance and remained kneeling on the floor. Incensed Galen raised his hand and curled his fingers as if he were crushing an invisible throat. The girl clutched her throat, gagging as her body lifted itself off the floor. Galen waited until her lips had flushed blue before releasing her from his magic and she staggered backwards gasping, but otherwise remained standing.

"When I give you a command you shall obey me wench!" he roared furiously.

"But of course, my _lord!_" sneered the woman scathingly, dipping into a mocking curtsey.

"Show me your true face" commanded Galen.

"Make me!" she challenged crossing her arms insolently.

Galen stepped forward, reached out and grabbed her by the throat. This time his intention wasn't to strangle her it was to force her to resume her true form. She gasped as Galen's large hand began to burn her skin spreading like wildfire through her whole body. Before Galen's eyes the woman's skin began to age and sag, her cheeks hollowed out as the face bones rearranged themselves, her hair turned silver and wispy, her eyes changed from a dark brown to a bright yellow, and she shrank several inches. Galen released her as the Trio's hag glared up at him furiously.

"Randall wasn't wrong when he said you were a fourth level daematrix, rare for a woman."

"Yes well, my _true_ masters didn't share your contempt for my sex!" hissed Merrigan.

"I assure you they did, where do you think I learned it from? The only reason they let you reach such a rank was because of your unique talents" sneered Galen.

"And I suppose my 'talents' are the reason I find myself here this night?" she demanded imperiously.

"Precisely, why else would I go to such trouble to find you" said Galen scathingly. "Proteus, Taeben leave us!"

"As you wish, my lord" said Taeben, the burly, red-haired wizard, as he and his companion bowed again and left the room.

"Tell me, Merrigan, do you know of the prophecy?"

"You mean the one that says a child of great power will be born to lead us out of darkness? Yes I've heard of it."

"Well then, it is my pleasure to inform you that the child was born a few days ago and that _you_ are going to help me get him!"

"Am I now?!" she said incredulously. "And why would I want to do that?!"

It happened in a flash; one minute she was standing before Galen, her thin arms folded once again in defiance, the next Galen had grabbed her by the hair and forced her head into the fireplace so that her ancient face was suspended inches above the licking flames. She gasped in fear as an unbearable heat engulfed her head and shoulders.

"The Trio may have tolerated your insolence you filthy crone but I am a man of little patience and you are wasting what little I possess!" roared Galen furiously. "If you cannot show me the respect my position demands I shall –!"

"You'll what? Kill me?" crowed Merrigan derisively, despite the precarious situation she found herself in. "Somehow I don't think you will; you need my help to get this child of yours which means I'm much too valuable to kill. And if you think you can torture me into helping you think again! I became immune to torture long before you were even born! You can threaten me all you like, Galen, but nothing you do will force me to obey you!"

After a slight pause Galen dragged her back out of the fireplace and forced her face to look into his silver masked one. His fiery eyes contemplated her withered face for several minutes until at last he released her. Rubbing her neck she glared up at him contemptuously.

"Perhaps ... there is another way to persuade you?" said Galen shrewdly. "You seem to be unusually ambitious for a female ... perhaps you desire more power? If this be the case then maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement?"

"You would allow me to ascend to fifth level?" asked Merrigan suspiciously.

"I believe you would be the first female to ever reach such a rank. So, does my offer interest you? Would you be willing to carry out the task I have for you, for such a reward?"

Merrigan was silent for several minutes as she pondered Galen's offer. Her yellow eyes searched his face but, as usual, the silver mask he wore made it impossible to read his expression; which seemed to be the point of it. Slowly a twisted smile curved her thin lips.

"Very well, I accept your offer. I will help you get this child, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"Good" said Galen in a satisfied voice.

"So what is it exactly you want me to do?" asked Merrigan.

"The child, Wyatt, has proven ... difficult to obtain. He possesses great powers that have protected him from all attempts to bring him back to Cimmeria. So I intend to deceive him; I want you do disguise yourself as the boy's mother and bring him to me" explained Galen.

"Alright, what does the mother look like then?"

"What does that matter?" said Galen impatiently.

"What does it _matter?!_" shrieked Merrigan angrily. "How do you suppose my power works?! I can't just transform into some woman I've never seen before! I either have to see her first or have something of hers; a lock of hair or a few drops of her blood, and if this child is as powerful as the prophecy suggests then I would go with the latter option!"

"A few drops of blood you say?" asked Galen, who hadn't been expecting this complication. "Very well, if that is what is needed for this plan to succeed you shall have it. Randall! Send for Armen!"

"Yes, my lord, at once" Randall obeyed, scurrying from the room.

"Armen will bring you the mother's blood and then, Merrigan; you will bring me the boy!"

* * *

**Author's note:**

_Hi Guys sorry it's taken so long for me to update but I'm back. Life got a little hectic for a while there but it's settled down again so I've got more time to write so hopefully I can update a little more regularly._

_Now you're probably wondering exactly who the Cimmerrii are and I promise more about them will be revealed in time. However I advise that you pay attention when I mention the colour of their eyes and when I talk about their ranks and 'ascending' because the significance of all of this will soon become clear. Oh yes, did you notice that new word I threw out at you? Daematrix? This too is something to remember._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope I get some good reviews and hear what you think of it ^_^ ta ta for now!_


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